People In Glass Houses
by coffeeiv
Summary: Reba finds a new man, but he's already engaged to the boss's daughter. Brock moves to Austin and Kyra moves back in with her attitude. Then Barbara Jean somehow gets Reba engaged to Terry, the short guy. Can Reba find love or will she lose her sanity?
1. Chapter 1

_Author note: I'll bet most of you can figure out from which romantic comedy of several years ago I adapted this piece._

**PEOPLE IN GLASS HOUSES**

Kyra hung the last of her clothes back in her old closet in Reba's house.

"I'm starting to feel like a foster kid with all the moving back and forth," she said.

"Nah," said Reba, "If you were a foster kid we'd actually treat you well."

Kyra guffawed. "No chance of that."

Reba hugged Kyra and played with her hair. "You know that Barbara Jean and your Dad's divorce is not your fault, don't you?"

Kyra looked at her mom and rolled her eyes. "Please. If I couldn't bend them to my will, nothing would have helped."

Reba hugged her again. "That's my little Stalin. Now wash your hands; we're having Barbara Jean's pot roast."

Kyra smiled. "You knew she'd feel guilty about me having to move back in."

Reba feigned shock. "I said nothing."

"But I noticed you didn't go to the grocery yesterday like you always do. You knew she'd be making dinner."

Reba shrugged. "Hey, what would you rather have: my meatloaf or Barbara Jean's pot roast?"

Kyra smiled. "I just wish Dad hadn't decided to move to Austin. I mean, I know he's just covering for that dentist on chemo, but what if he really likes it? What if he doesn't come back?"

"Let's not open that package until it's sitting on the steps, okay?"

After supper, Reba helped Barbara Jean with the dishes.

"What are your plans, Barbara Jean?"

"Plans?"

"Well, I know the station recommended you for that job in Phoenix…"

"I've finally found a good therapist here in Houston for Henry, his school is cooperative, and I refuse to put my career ahead of his well-being. The weather position here will just have to be enough."

"But Phoenix was going to pay for you to get a degree in meteorology. And Phoenix has therapists and good schools, probably even better than Houston."

Reba had begun to have some hope of seeing less of Barbara Jean. They had become friends; that was true. But Barbara Jean once a month would be so much more do-able than Barbara Jean 24/7.

"Sounds like you want to get rid of me, Reba."

"Fat chance," said Reba.

"Plus," continued Barbara Jean, "If I leave, then no one else will push you to go out with men and you'll die a lonely old lady with lots of cats."

"I hate cats," said Reba. "And besides, you are as single as I am."

"Right! So we can hunt together! I've already been on several websites and staked out a few, did some introductions, and I think I've found about ten possibilities."

"Excuse me?"

"I've entered you into several online dating websites, and…"

Reba grabbed her by the collar and marched BJ to the laptop. "Show me."

For the next hour, Reba forced BJ to erase her from all the sites BJ would confess to. Reba knew there were probably more, but she'd just have to deal with the e-mails, calls, or whatever when they came up.

--

The next day one came up. Reba had just finished showing a house across the street from an elementary school, when she saw BJ with a man waving from two doors down. The man was holding flowers and a big box of candy and was half the size of BJ.

"Not Terry again!" Terry was a very short and nice but slightly creepy man with whom BJ had set Reba up a few years back.

Reba silently said "Crap!" because she had worn heels that day, but ran across the street toward her car, which she had parked in the school parking lot to give her clients more room.

Barbara Jean yelled, "Wait!"

Reba had almost made it to the curb when her heel caught in a manhole cover and she tripped and twisted backward.

Down she went, arms flailing wildly to catch her fall. Her butt hit first, then her elbows, and finally her head –kong! A man in a suit who had been getting into his car near hers ran over and got to her before BJ and Terry.

"Are you OK?" he asked. "What's your name?"

"Reba."

"Reba what?"

"I think I need to sleep."

"Oh, no you don't. Does anything hurt?"

He felt her head all over. Large bump forming on the back. Good sign- no internal swelling. Her hair was an amazing impression of an autumn sunset in the desert. He looked at her eyes. No dilation. Wow, blue as the Caribbean.

"Your knee," she said.

"You mean, 'My knee.'"

"No, your knee. It's digging into my chest."

The man moved. "Oops! Sorry!"

BJ and Terry ran up. "I called 911," said BJ. "How is she?"

"Not sure," said the man. "She's getting a nasty bump."

"Elbows," Reba said.

He checked those – nothing broken, just bloodied and raw as hamburger. Elsewhere, her skin was like milk straight from the cow on his great-grandparents' farm.

"Ankle," said Reba.

The man touched it all around. "OK?"

"OK," said Reba.

Then he tried to rotate it.

"AUGH!!" yelled Reba.

"Probably sprained, but probably not broken. X-ray anyway," said the man.

She moved her head from side to side. "I think I'm okay. I'm going to sit up slowly."

Terry said, "I'll go get a Coke. I have a fridge in my car." He ran off.

A siren wailed in the distance. "Boy, they're quick," said BJ.

"Yeah, it's nice to have a fire station two blocks away from the school."

"I'll go direct them," she said and went further down the street to wave her arms.

Reba was sitting up but the man still had his arms around her, supporting her. She shrugged them off.

"I'm fine, really," she said, wiping her forehead. "Geez, it's hot today, don't you think?"

"Hot?" He looked at her. "It's cooler than it's been all summer. Are you sure you don't…"

Reba swayed and he grabbed her as she fell against his chest. She took a deep breath.

"Mmmmm. You smell like freshly sharpened pencils and dry erase markers…"

And then she fainted.

Author note: Much more later. Did you guess which movie? Write it in your review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Reba woke up in the ER with Barbara Jean in her face.

"I think she's jaundiced. Terry, do you think she's jaundiced?"

Terry came over and looked at her. "Look, Barbara Jean, she's waking up. And she doesn't look yellow to me; she looks red."

"Get – out - of – my - face…"

Another face supplanted BJ and Terry. This face was angular with a strong jaw, prematurely gray hair, a few cute crinkles around the eyes, and kind green eyes. "Remember me?"

Reba's face returned to its normal color. "I remember your face, but not your name."

"Dr. Clint." He held out his hand.

She took it and shook it. Firm, but not freaky. Nice. She even got a little zing. She smiled.

"Reba Hart. Thank you for…um…"

BJ broke in. "Pulling you out of the street so you wouldn't get run over."

Terry walked back up. "I got you a Coke, Reba."

BJ made a face. "Terry, you ran in the opposite direction."

"But she had blood all over her shirt," said Terry. He shivered slightly. "If I had stayed I would have puked on her. I was trying to avoid giving her more pain."

"Oh, save it, Terry," said BJ. "Now, Dr. Clint, what do you do? Just stand around saving women all day? Ha-ha-ha."

Reba winced at her over-the-top flirting.

"Just call me Clint. I'm an elementary school principal. Reba had her accident in front of my school."

"A principal, huh," said Terry. "Geez, you guys pretty much get the shaft on salary. Although you do have retirement and great vacations. What are you driving, huh? A Vega? A Pinto?"

"Terry," said BJ, "I heard the cafeteria was having two-for-one messe nachos."

Terry perked up. "Really? Reba, can I get you anything?"

Reba smiled at BJ. "No, Terry; I'm good."

Terry left and BJ continued. "So, Clint. We need to thank you for your service today. I usually send potted plants. Does your wife like hydrangeas?" BJ turned and winked at Reba.

"I'm not married," said Clint.

"Not married? Handsome man like you? Imagine that. Well, we need to get together and talk because I am very, very concerned that my son isn't getting the best education where he is…"

Barbara Jean," interrupted Reba, "You just told me you were staying in Houston because of the good schools."

Barbara Jean looked at Clint and touched her head. She whispered, "The blow has affected her memory, I see."

Reba glared at BJ. "Barbara Jean, please."

But BJ pressed on. "Tomorrow night we were planning to go to the cantaloupe festival fair. Maybe you would like to join us?"

Clint looked at Reba. "Think you'll be up for it?"

"I'll be fine as long as I don't go on the Scrambler."

Clint shook his head. "Oh, no; I haven't been on that one since I was ten. I lost two hot dogs, three cotton candies, four sodas, and a Snickers bar on that ride."

Reba frowned. "How did you even expect to hold all that food and drink on a ride?"

Clint stood up. "I was holding it inside my stomach."

He walked toward the door, turned, and said, "See you ladies tomorrow night, seven PM at the entrance. my treat."

Reba sat up further on the gurney to watch him walk away.

BJ said, "Boy, you wouldn't believe the goofy look on your face."

"What goofy look?"

BJ smiled slyly. "I think we won't be needing Terry."

The next day, Reba was in a meeting with her boss.

"Reba," said Ms. Codex, the owner of the real estate company, "Your numbers are excellent for last quarter. I believe you are ready for more of a challenge."

"Thank you Ms. Codex. I appreciate it. What would you like for me to do?"

"I have a special client who specifically asked to work with you."

Reba put her hand on her chest, flattered. "Really? They asked for me?"

"Oh, yes, and I won't give this client to just anyone. Actually, I wasn't sure I wanted you to have it because there are others who've been here longer than you. However, I reward results rather than seniority. It's a couple about to be married. Their tastes are very discerning and somewhat more… shall we say _formal_ than yours."

"Oh, I never interject my opinions, Ms. Codex. I always feel out the client and take my cues from them."

"Yes, you are a good read of character and preference, that's for sure. Anyway, they want to look at the new listing in The Groves this Sunday afternoon at 2PM." She stood.

Reba stood and held out her hand. "They won't be disappointed. I will find them the perfect home. You won't be sorry, Ms. Codex."

"Hmmm…" hummed Ms. Codex and put her eyes back on her computer.

"So what are their names?"

"Reba, you will be finding a home for my youngest daughter Shari and her fiancé Gary."

Reba bit her lip to refrain from smiling at that. "Ms. Codex, I am honored that you have entrusted your daughter and her fiancé to me. I will not let you down."

"I do not like to see my baby disappointed."

"She won't be, Mrs.Codex."

That night, Barbara Jean and Reba met Clint at the entrance to the fair.

"I'm going to go get us all some cotton candy," said Barbara Jean, and she took off immediately.

"Excuse her," said Reba, "She wasn't raised right. It's not her fault."

Clint smiled. Oh, my, thought Reba. If I get zings all night like that one, I'm gonna have to sit down most of the evening.

"Reba," said Clint, "Barbara Jean's idea was great. This way I get to see with my own eyes that you're doing well."

"What, you think I'd lie to a principal?"

Clint saw the spark in her eyes. "Yes, if it served you. I'd hate to have had you in my office when you were ten years old."

Reba opened her mouth in protest. "I'm insulted! What makes you think I'd be such a troublemaker? You don't believe all those old wives' tales about red hair, do you?"

"Old wives can be wrong, but in your case, I think you were more high-spirited than trouble."

"I did spend a few hours in the principal's office in fifth grade for talking back to Mrs. Lake, who was the reincarnation of Hitler."

"She deserved it."

"How do you know?"

Clint shrugged. "I can just tell."

Then Barbara Jean walked up with the cotton candy.

"Oops, you know what? I just realized I forgot and left my flat iron on. I'd better go."

Reba frowned. "Just call Kyra. I'm sure she'll be glad to run over and turn it off."

Barbara Jean bugged her eyes at Reba. "No, she can't. It's a special one. It has codes."

"Codes?"

"Yeah, like a computer? You have to know the password to turn it off."

"Don't you mean to turn it on?"

"No, see, they don't want someone else to turn it off 'cause you might not be done and then the iron gets cold and your hair kinks up again and you might sue."

"But you won't sue if the thing gets stuck on and burns your house down?"

"Reba, you are impossible," said Barbara Jean and she stalked away.

"How is she going to get home?" asked Clint.

"Oh, she'll find someone she knows here and talk them into riding with them. Barbara Jean may be nuts, but she is extremely resourceful and knows everybody."

Reba looked up at the Ferris wheel. "It's a nice night. It would be even cooler up there."

"Let's ride it," said Clint and they got in line.

Once in, Reba began to enjoy the feeling of being with Clint. He didn't have snappy comebacks and he wasn't trying to impress her necessarily.

"So how's the real estate biz?"

"Slow as molasses. I declare, if the sub-prime market hadn't tanked, I'd be vacationing on the Riviera next winter."

"So how do you know Barbara Jean?"

"She's my ex-husband's second ex."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry, it still confuses me."

"You must have an incredible heart to be able to forgive someone at that deep a level."

"Oh, it took me years. And I still don't like her much, so don't be so impressed. What about you? How'd you get to be a principal?"

"I taught fifth grade for fifteen years. I saw administrators come and go. I thought, I can do that. Turns out I'm good at administration."

"What do you do in your spare time?"

"Spare time? Um, not much of that. I see my kids from my first marriage – divorced ten years ago. I read really boring books on British history. I collect stamps-"

Reba snickered.

"What?" said Clint. "Stamp collecting is a wholesome and educational hobby."

"But is it fun?"

"Yes, for me."

Reba looked at him and tried not to laugh. "You have got to be kidding me."

"So what do you do that's so much more exciting?"

"I babysit my grandkids."

"Oh, yes, of course, I forgot that cleaning creamed peas off the floor and emptying the Diaper Genie was so much more diverting than trading a 1910 horse and buggy for a 1865 Indian Head."

"Maybe you should come observe Saturday night. You might just be surprised."

"Maybe I will."

Reba loved this little back-and-forth sparring. She could tell he did as well. And from the looks of it, he enjoyed it so much that he was moving closer. He glanced at her mouth, then looked back at her eyes as his face came closer. His eyes closed, his lips parted. She felt her eyes close and felt her heart thudding in her chest, her throat, her ears. Then she felt a lurch and their foreheads conked together.

"Ouch!" said Reba.

The Ferris wheel had stopped with them about a fourth of the way up.

Clint rubbed her forehead. "You okay? You don't really need another head injury."

"I'm fine."

The operator yelled up. "Ever'body OK?" Everyone was. "Gonna have to do this manually. Take about forty-five minutes." There was groaning from up above. "Those of you that are close to the ground can just get off."

Reba looked down. It was about ten feet.

"Can you jump that?" asked Clint.

"Piece of cake, Clint," said Reba. "I've scaled Van's parents' wall in the middle of the night."

Clint jumped first and then held his arms up to help break her fall. "You just keep getting more and more interesting, Reba."

Later that week, Van found Reba at her computer, smiling. But the screen was on a screensaver that looked like a lava lamp.

Van stopped short and narrowed his eyes. "Mrs. H."

Reba kept staring and smiling.

"Mrs. H!" Van yelled.

Reba jumped. "Yike! Geez, Van."

"You looked like a zombie."

"A zombie?"

"Yeah. You were just staring at that lava lamp and smiling. Which come to think of it is not that much like a zombie. Zombies have vacant stares. On account of they're dead."

Reba, smiling again, said, "Van. Get to the point."

"You've just been acting a little weird lately."

"Weird? Me? How?"

Van made a face. "You're smiling all the time."

Reba frowned, but she still smiled. "I am not."

Van folded his arms. "OK, 'fess up; what's his name?"

"Who?"

"Your new boyfriend. The obvious reason you're smiling."

"I do not have a boyfriend."

"I heard he likes bad girls."

"What?"

"Girls that get sent to the principals' office!"

Reba swatted him with a newspaper. Then she finally began research on The Groves for her new clients, Shari and Gary.


	3. Chapter 3

**Reba – People In Glass Houses 3**

Reba walked up to the Tudor Revival home in The Groves. She had stayed up late last night to do extensive research on all its amenities. She knew her promotion, and quite possibly her job, was riding on these clients. Her boss' daughter and her fiancé specifically wanted her to help them find a house and they had specifically asked for her. She had met Shari before. Shari had just completed a residency at MD Anderson as a pediatric oncologist. She had the reputation of being incredibly compassionate and available to patients and their parents, but hard, unforgiving, and impatient of anyone not as brilliant and efficient as she. However, she seemed to take an instant liking to Reba. She called Reba "transparent" and said most people she saw tried to hide at least something.

A white BMW pulled up as Reba got out of her Prius. Shari got out alone. Reba met her halfway up the walk and held out her hand. Shari instead gave her a hug.

"Please, Reba. You're a dear. No handshakes. I'm looking forward to seeing this house."

"Me, too," said Reba. "Where's Gary?"

"He'll be here in a minute. Something about a discipline issue. Anyway, can you give me an overview?"

"Well, it was built in 2005. It took two full years to build and was designed by Strunk and Cohen out of Dallas."

"I'm not much up on architectural firms, Reba. No time."

"Apparently, they've done work all over the world for celebrities and politicians. They have a reputation for listening to the client and adding their eclectic twist to update traditions, but in a subtle, tasteful fashion."

"You've done your homework."

Reba smiled. "Ready to go in? We'll start with the entrance."

On either side of the walk there were informal flower beds rioting with color.

"I guess I'll have to get a gardener to deal with these flowers. My thumb is so not green. But what a statement. It whispers, 'English Country.'"

"I like it, too, although it would certainly be too much work. The front door came from Wales. It was on a 17th century home that was unfortunately being sold off piece-by-piece by the family to pay debts."

"Sad. But a beautiful door."

They were on the second floor when they heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Oh, here comes Gary," said Shari.

Reba turned around. There in the doorway was Clint.

They looked at each other. Reba glanced at Shari,who noticed the odd expression on Reba's face.

"Reba?" she said. "What's the matter? Have you met Gary?"

Reba tried to rally with a lie. "Uh, yeah. He accidentally bumped into me when I was showing a house across from his school."

Clint, as flustered as Reba, said, "And I apologized profusely."

"Oh," said Shari, sensing a little hostility from Reba, "He actually hurt you?"

"Well," said Reba, laughing nervously at Shari, "It didn't hurt until later." She glared at Clint. "But, we've met and we're cool now," she said, lying again and smiling broadly at Shari.

"So we can dismiss the pleasantries and get down to business," said Shari.

"Yes, let's do that," said Clint.

As Shari went out of one bedroom, Clint held out his arm for Reba to go first.

"Who are you?" whispered Reba as she passed him.

Clint sighed.

Shari went into a large room. "This," said Reba, "Is the upstairs den. Perfect for family gatherings, video gaming, watching movies as a family."

"Oh, we're not having kids," said Shari.

Reba blinked. "Well, you can entertain your guests here, then."

"Like we have time for that," Shari said, chuckling.

Reba looked at Clint, who shrugged. "We both see kids all day. Plus, we're not home enough to have kids. They'd be farmed out to nannies all the time and I'm not having a child of mine reared by someone else and neglected by parents."

"Maybe you guys could work out your hours better. It would be such a shame for two such intelligent, thoughtful, honest people not to breed."

Shari curled her lips slightly at the word "breed." Then her cell phone rang. "This is Dr. Codex," she said, then listened. "Give her five more milligrams of morphine." She looked at her watch. "I'll be there in twenty."

Shari looked at both of them. "One of my patients is on her way out. Ten years old. I have to be there. I promised her and her family. Reba, Gary and I have the exact same tastes. If he likes it, then I'll like it. Show him the rest of the house. Gary, take pictures. I'll see you tonight. Kiss, kiss."

"But –"said Reba. She watched as Shari flew down the stairs, got in her car, and sped off.

Reba stayed at the window, thinking of exactly how to blast Clint. She felt him come up behind her and before he could touch her – yecchh – she whirled around and let him have it.

"Lying, cheating, filthy, stinking, totally dishonest…"

Clint put his hands on his hips. "Now wait and listen before you jump to conclusions."

"What else would I do? You told me your name was Clint."

"My name is Gary Clinton. My old and best friends call me 'Clint.'"

Reba chuckled. "Your last name is Clinton? Figures. So how many other women have you picked up since you've been with Shari, huh?"

"I didn't 'pick you up.' I met you and your friend at a carnival."

"After which she left and you didn't," Reba shot back.

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Really? I'll ask Shari when she gets back from the deathbed of a ten-year-old. How could you possibly?"

"Reba, it wasn't a date. It meant nothing."

"Hmm, let's see. We went on a ride that most people would agree is for couples. We talked. We smiled at each other a lot. I'm a woman. You're a man. Neither of us is gay. No business was discussed. And before the Ferris wheel broke, you almost kissed me. I'd pretty much a call that a date."

"I didn't almost kiss you. You're totally not my type."

Reba closed her eyes and counted to five. "Tell you what. I can just chalk that up to male hormones and your pants taking over your brain. Happens all the time. But going on the Ferris wheel with me, stringing me along, not knowing you were engaged, now that is another thing."

"Maybe I have lots of friends who are women, completely platonic relationships that Shari understands and encourages."

"And maybe Shari was born yesterday, which, with her doctorate in oncology, is obviously not the case. And she is my boss' daughter."

"So you're going to tattle?"

"Why should you care if nothing happened and if Shari is cool with you going on fair rides with random women?"

Clint's phone rang. "Hey, sweetie," he said, and mouthed, "my daughter" to Reba. Silence for a couple of seconds. "Whoa, baby, slow down. She told you to what?" More silence. "OK, hang on and I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Is there someone to watch you until I get there?...OK, ask them to stay a little longer and I will compensate them. 'Bye."

"Reba, we'll have to sort this out later. My ex got stuck in traffic and Becca, who is fifteen, is stranded at school. All her friends who drive have left. I'm sorry. Can you hold off discussing it with Shari?"

Reba at least understood his dilemma. "OK, I won't tattle yet. Go, go," she said. "I'll e-mail Shari pictures."

He left, even a little faster than Shari.

Geez, thought Reba.All this rage and I didn't get closure. She got out her cell phone, took pictures of the parts of the house Shari hadn't seen, locked up, drove directly to Cold Stone and ordered Chocolate Brownie Fudge with caramel and toffee bites - trademarked by Cold Stone as "The Cure."


	4. Chapter 4

This one's shorter - not much time to write in the past couple of days.

**Reba – People In Glass Houses 4**

When she drove up after scarfing the ice cream, Terry's Mercedes was parked out front.

Hell, thought Reba. I have died, and I am in hell. God kept telling me to keep my mouth shut, but would I listen? No, sirree…

Terry met her on the porch. "Reba, you look beat. I just heard about what that awful man did to you and if you want me to I'll go beat him up."

Reba gave him a dead stare. "You? What did you have in mind? Bruising his knees?"

"Reba, you are so funny. So positive even when your heart is breaking."

"My heart is not breaking," said Reba defiantly.

"Now, Reba," said Terry, "Just sit down." He ushered her onto the sofa and handed her a glass of chilled Chablis. "Rosemary chicken is in the oven, and Barbara Jean's bringing over blackberry cobbler." He went into the kitchen.

"Geez, what is this? People act like somebody died. Next thing, somebody will walk in wearing black and bringing flowers."

Kyra ran downstairs in a dark Goth outfit with a colorful Hawai'ian lei adding just the perfect ironic touch. Reba had to close her eyes and shake her head. Just for a second.

"Goin' to band practice, Mom!"

"Wait just a minute, young lady, I haven't seen you all week."

Kyra stopped short and turned slowly. "Well, I was here. You weren't."

"I have a job that puts a roof over your head."

"And I have a job that will pretty soon put a roof over my head if you'll let me go to practice."

Reba stood up, ready for a fight. "Barbara Jean let you get too big for your britches."

Kyra walked over to Reba and hugged her. "I know about Gary Clinton, Mom. I'm sorry he broke your heart."

"Augh!" yelled Reba "What is this about him breaking my heart?"

"Anyway, I know you're not really mad at me; you're mad at him. Let it out, Mom. Let it out. But let it out later on me. I'm outtie."

Reba fumed. Terry came back in. "Whoa, girl, you're steamin'. Bet if we hooked up a pressure cooker to your ears we'd get them field peas done in fifteen minutes!"

Reba plunked back down on the couch. "I hate it when you start talking country."

"Barbara Jean thinks it's cute. Don't you just love Barbara Jean? She's so naturally vivacious. I just love her."

Reba shot the dead stare again. "Well, then, why don't you marry her?"

Terry tut-tutted with his tongue. "Oh, Reba, now there's no call to act like a third grader."

Reba chuckled softly.

"What's funny?" asked Terry.

"Just my life," she said, turned away from Terry and let herself fall face down in a sofa pillow.

Van shot up off the sofa in Reba's den. "You are not going to let this two-timing scuzz keep you from your promotion. I can't believe that you're even thinking about giving it to me."

"But, Van, you wanted it from the start."

"Yeah, but not because you're scared of it. I wanted it because Codex knows I'm the best. She knows I've had more sales. If you give it to me now, that just makes it cheap and second-hand."

"Oh, stop acting like a girl, Van."

"No, you stop." Van walked over to the picture of the Hart family on Reba's desk. "Are you going to tell them you chickened out? Are you going to tell Jake his mom is a weanie? Are you going to look my daughter and my son - after he's born, of course – in the eye and tell them Grammie passed on the opp of a lifetime just because some scoundrel broke her heart?"

"He didn't break my heart, Van, I only knew him for about ten minutes. He only bent it slightly."

Van made his "What's it gonna be?" face.

Reba sighed. "You're right, Van. I know you're right. Giving in will just make him that much more prone to treat other women that way and get away with it." She began to pace.

Van watched, hoping his rant had some effect.

"I'm doing this not only for myself and my family," she told herself. "I am doing this for all the other potential victims of Gary Clinton."

She whirled around and pointed at Van. "He's expecting me to bow out. He's expecting his future mother-in-law, my boss Ms. Codex, to send someone else, someone he can manipulate. What he doesn't realize is that now that I know his true colors, I am immune to his wiles."

Van frowned. "The wiles of an elementary school principal?"

"Yes!" she yelled. "He wooed me with that distinguished hair contrasted with his boyish face. He could tell I was intrigued by a man who spends all day with kids. He planned to seduce me,even when i was knocked out cold."

Van started pounding one fist into the other palm. "I'll kill 'im."

Reba held up her hand."No, Van, this kind of fox can only be vanquished by ignoring him. I will show him that he is nothing to me but a client. I am completely blind to him as a man. I am immune, like I am immune to chicken pox or the measles. In fact, I am so immune that you could shoot me full of Gary Clinton anthrax and I'd go run a marathon. I am so immune that Chuck Norris asks for shots of me. I am so-"

"I get it, Mrs. H," cut in Van. "Now, go find Gary and Shari another house."


	5. Chapter 5

**People In Glass Houses 5**

Gary Clinton teed off from the 18th hole at The Groves Country Club. His best man, Ace Coleman, whistled. "It's not Tiger woods, Man, but it's close. I swear I don't know how you do it. You play four times a year and you have a swing like that."

"Golf doesn't play the rent."

"True."

They got in the cart to ride to their next shots. After a few moments of silence, Ace spoke up. "About that redhead, like I said - don't worry. Forget her. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't do anything another man wouldn't do when faced with a perfect night, a carnival ride, and a beautiful woman."

"Then why do I feel like I did?"

"Clint, she manipulated you so you would feel that way. Your little flirtation with her had no bearing on your relationship with Shari. You love Shari. You're marrying Shari. The redhead was a brief distraction. Absolutely normal reaction for every male when their bodies realize there will only be one woman. They instinctively start looking for another. It's natural."

"Yeah," said Clint, nodding. "It's not my fault my body wants sexual diversity. But my mind and soul want Shari. And that's what makes sense."

"Redheads are very distracting, but that's all they are," said Ace. "I once spent the night with a redhead and in the morning I woke up and she had shaved 'Cheap Ass' in my back hair."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Thanks for the warning. And the reminder. Shari is the perfect woman for me. She is the smartest person I've ever known. She is incredibly dedicated to her patients. She appreciates my stability because her job is so demanding. I can't wait to marry her."

Ace patted him on the back. "Plus, she's built like a Victoria's Secret model."

Clint smiled. "It helps."

"So, um, can I have the redhead's number?"

"She's too mature for you," said Clint.

Ace held his hands out. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know your type, Ace. This one probably wears underwear and actually cares about other people." He addressed his ball.

Ace shrugged. "I could probably change that."

Reba sat in the back of Shari's Mercedes as they drove the 45 miles to Sawgrass, a planned community south of Houston, to look at more houses.

Shari powdered her nose and closed the compact. "So, Gary, I need to know what kind of groom's cake you want. Traditional is chocolate, but they'll also do caramel Grand Marnier or Jack Daniels Butterscotch." Shari looked over at the speedometer. "Sweetie, if we're going to get there in an hour, you have to go over 80."

"The speed limit is 70. I am going 75," said Clint.

"Then we'll be five minutes late, and if we're late for the viewing, we'll have to cut it short in order to get to the wedding cake bakery for our 2 o'clock appointment."

"How crucial is five minutes?"

Shari issued a small, frustrated sigh. "HON-ey, we go over this every time we have an appointment together. This time, I want to see the whole house, not just the parts the agents want us to see."

"Reba won't let the other agent hide anything," said Clint. "Will you, Reba?"

Reba gave them a tight smile. "Nope."

"See?" said Clint. "Relax, Honey. Now, the Jack Daniels sounds good, but how will it look on the outside?"

"Either square or rounds, in tiers, with marzipan fruit for decoration."

Clint frowned. "I thought the groom's cake got to be fun."

Shari's eyebrows went up. "Fun?"

"Yeah, you know, like some guys make it like a football. Other guys decorate it with poker cards. I saw one that was gray and shaped like an armadillo and when you cut it open it had red velvet on the inside. You know, like guts?"

Shari gave him a dead stare. Reba had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. Shari was, Reba had to admit, just a tad bit controlling. She accidentally snickered and had to make it sound like a cough. But Clint knew.

He patted Shari's leg. "Oh, Honey; I'm just kidding."

"This is serious stuff, Gary. You don't make wedding planning into a farce. No wonder so many people get divorced. If the wedding planning is a joke, then why do it? Why not just go to Vegas and get it done by a fake Elvis?" She crossed her arms.

Clint was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Shari, Honey. I love you. I want to marry you whether we do it in a cathedral or wake up the justice of the peace in Fish-Eye Bottom. So whatever you want, that's what I want. You have impeccable taste. I completely trust your judgment. Go with the cake you like best, and I know it's the one I like best, too."

Reba had to roll her eyes on that one.

Shari recovered quickly. "Great; we'll have the chocolate. What woman would choose anything else, eh, Reba?"

Reba nodded. "Anything else is a complete waste of calories."

Shari suddenly brightened. "Speaking of which, I think I have some Dove chocolates in my purse..."

She began to dig, and then brought them out. There were six. "Ta-da!" said Shari, handing two to Reba and taking two for herself. She handed two to Clint, but he waved them away. Reba and Shari started eating them. Their moans of ecstasy made Clint think of things other than the road and the houses they were to be viewing. He was about to find a gas station where he could get them some more chocolate, but they passed an outlet mall. A large sign advertised a shoe outlet with Prada, Gucci,and Jimmy Choo 75 percent off.

"Oh my God! Gary, turn right! Turn right!" yelled Shari.

"What the crap?" he said as he turned into the mall parking lot. "You just raked me over the coals for going too slowly. If you go in that store, we'll have to cross an entire house off our list!"

"Gary, we can drive to Sawgrass any day I'm off," said Shari.

Under his breath, Clint muttered, "Which is twice a year, maybe for 48 hours."

Shari continued. "One hundred dollar Jimmy Choos are the chance of a lifetime."

Clint parked the Mercedes and the women got out. Shari leaned into his open window. "Maybe you should grab a bite. I think there's a tofu bar over there." Clint made a face. Shari and Reba left giggling and talking.

Clint sat in the car and watched the temp gauge hit 90. He was beginning to worry how much more he was thinking about the sound of Reba's chocolate moans than Shari's when someone tapped on his window.

"Hi, I'm Terry. I'm a friend of Reba's. I know she's working because I had asked her to go on a picnic today and she said she had to take you all to Sawgrass. But I wondered if you'd mind if I hung out with ya'll. You know, since I really should have had Reba to myself today."

"You're dating Reba?" asked Clint.

"Well, I wouldn't really call it dating, per se. We're actually engaged."


	6. Chapter 6

Reba – People In Glass Houses 6

Reba – People In Glass Houses 6

Terry giggled girlishly as he leaned against Clint's car.

"You know she's so cute, she pretends she hates me when we're in public."

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Reba Hart? She's your fiance?"

Terry shrugged and gave a goofy smile. "I know, she really doesn't seem like my type. I usually go for the bimbos and the fashion model types. Those chicks are usually all over me. But ever since I spent the night with her, I know she really loves me."

Clint's jaw dropped. "You spent the night with Reba?"

"Oh, yeah," said Terry. "And I tell you when she had a good time the night before, she makes a mean omelette."

Just then, Shari and Reba came out of the shoe store. Terry was on the opposite side of the car than the store.

"OOo," said Terry, "Don't tell her I'm here. I want to surprise her."

He squatted and told Clint, "This probably won't fool her. She can sense my presence."

Clint winced. Oh, my soul, he thought, could this be true? Is Reba really attracted to this poser? Why would she ever get engaged to such an irritating…

"What are you looking at?" asked Shari.

"Huh?" said Clint, startled. "Oh, just checking the tires."

They put their stuff in the back seat and then got in the car. Reba sat in the back on the passenger side. Terry waddled around the back to squat underneath Reba's window.

"Boo!" he said as he popped up.

Reba was so startled she flung a Diet Coke out the window into his face.

As Terry stood there dripping, Reba yelled, "Terry! What the heck are you doing here?"

"Apparently, your fiancé misses you so much that he's been tailing us since we left Houston," said Clint.

Reba balked. "He is not my fiancé!"

Clint smiled. "It's OK. Terry told me about your little penchant for denying it in public."

Reba took a deep breath. "There is nothing to deny. Do you really think I would get married to…"

"Watch it, Reba," said Shari. "You're about to say something that could not only damage your marriage, but ruin your reputation as a fair-minded, non-bigoted person."

"I was going to say 'irritating!' " yelled Reba.

"Terry," said Clint, "You are welcome to come with us to Sawgrass. Get in."

"Oh how fun!" said Shari. "Double dating with Reba and Terry!"

Reba put her shoulder on the door and her head in her hand." Terry scooted over close to her and put his hand on her leg. She slapped it off.

Terry giggled. "You're so fun to play with, Reba."

"Hell," said Reba. "I have died and I am now in hell. Again."

The Sawgrass tour of homes wound through rolling hills on the edge of a golf course designed by Tiger Woods. It took so long that halfway through, Reba and Shari needed a restroom break in one of the mini clubhouses along the road. Clint and Terry found a game room inside and terry challenged Clint to that old stand-by, Pac-Man. To Clint's chagrin, Terry beat him soundly. Clint did not like to lose, especially to a man who was hardly a man in Clint's sight, but had somehow won Reba's affections. He shook Terry's hand formally, as if it was a big deal. Terry laughed, and then realized Clint had taken it seriously. He laughed harder.

"Gary, buddy," Terry said, "You gotta loosen up. Chicks don't dig uptight dudes."

Clint looked back at him and motioned with his head toward Shari. "I've done alright."

"Yessirree, she fits you to a T," said Terry.

Clint smiled warily. "Yes, she does."

When the women came out, they saw Segways for the use of touring guests.

"Oh, Gary, let's try these," said Shari.

"Ugh," said Clint. "Don't they look sort of…dweeby?"

Terry hopped on one and scooted off. Clint soon followed. Shari and Reba had no choice but to get on and continue.

Shari spotted a home she wanted to visit,so they made their way down a hill to a large Georgian style house. Suddenly halfway down the hill, Reba's Segway lurched, made a grinding sound, and sped up to 35 mph.

"Whoa!" Reba yelled, trying to figure out how to steer herself near enough to a curb so she could jump off, but the steering wasn't working either.

Shari and Terry stopped and stood with mouths agape, but Clint had already made some adjustment on his Segway and was rapidly approaching Reba's. As he came up alongside her, he yanked her off with one arm and put her in front of him so that they were face to face. He slowed his Segway to a crawl and stopped in front of the Georgian house.

Reba stepped off, shaking, with a mumbled , "Thank you," and without looking at him.

"Oh, my gosh, Reba," said Shari. "You could have been badly hurt!"

"What the heck was that McGyver thing you did to your Segway, Clint?" Asked terry. "That was so awesome."

"Something I learned at a principal's seminar," said Clint.

After seeing the inside of the house, Everyone but Reba got back on their Segways. "That thing is demonic," she said. "I'll just walk. See you guys in about an hour."

"You can ride back with me, Reba," said Terry.

Reba closed her eyes for a brief prayer.

But Shari said, "No, Terry, I think she'd better ride with Clint. No offense, but you couldn't see well with her in front on you, and there's no room for her to hang on the back."

"She could ride on his shoulders," suggested Clint. "Or how about Reba drives and terry rides in front."

Reba glared at him and said, "Bite me."

"No," said Shari, "Reba can't control the thing well enough. I checked that one before we left and it was fine."

Reba rolled her eyes. "So why can't I ride with you?"

"Reba ! Because anyone driving by in a car would think we were lesbians. Geez!" said Shari.

"Heaven forbid anyone would think you were gay. Apparently that's worse than your real estate broker riding groin-to-groin on a Segway with your fiancé."

"Please, "said Shari, "You and I both know you don't go for the intellectual type. Now,if Gary were a construction worker or a fireman, I'd be in trouble."

Reba gave her a fake smile and got on the Segway with Clint. "Thanks loads, Shar."

"So," said Clint. "Imagine my surprise when despite all the grief you've been giving me about going to the carnival with you when I was engaged, it turns out that you too have a fiancé."

Reba sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you he is not even my boyfriend. I have never had a date with him."

"He told me that he slept with you," said Clint.

"What?" said Reba. "Oh, the time Barbara Jean invited him over for dinner for the seventy-fifth time and they watched a "Get Smart" marathon on TV Land. Terry fell asleep on the couch."

"A likely story," said Clint.

"So you would believe the insinuations of Terry over my dead-serious swearing that he is lying?"

"I don't know you," said Clint. "I've actually spent more time with him than I have with you, thanks to your little shopping spree with Shari. Incidentally, that cost us three houses and lunch, in case you're hungry. Terry and I found a Panera Bread and had lunch while ya'll were finding out if the devil wears Prada. So technically, he's more my friend than you are and I can trust him further."

Reba sighed again. There was no point in arguing any further. Once again, Barbara Jean had made a bad situation worse. And despite how angry she was at him, she couldn't help but feel herself stirred by his nearness. She could smell his sweat, since it was a warm day, and even feel the heat radiating from his body. She adored him even more in his jeans and casual shirt, his hair tousled and dampened with perspiration, making him appear even more boyish despite the gray hair.

Why, oh why did she always fall for the ones who were not available?

Several days later, Shari phoned Reba. "I know I'm supposed to look at houses in St. Luke today, but I have to present some cases to the Pediatric Oncology Board in Minneapolis. I'll be gone for three days. We can't afford to stop looking now, because we need to make an offer on a house within the week. You need to take Gary to St.Luke, The Uplands, and Caple Creek."

Reba panicked. Three days alone with Clint? Oh,no. Not happening. "Shari, I can't do that. Both parties need to be-"

Shari cut her off. "Now Reba, I know Gary hurt your feelings about how you couldn't manage the Segway, but remember Bush couldn't figure it out either. Don't let me down. I can't save kids' lives if I don't have a team behind me I can depend on, can I?"

Reba knew she couldn't say no when Shari played the "saving children's lives" card.

In St.Luke, they wandered through a small bungalow that Clint thought was great.

"But remember," said Reba, "Shari wants at least four bedrooms, preferably more."

"Yeah," he said, almost regretfully.

"Shari must have a large extended family," said Reba.

"Oh,no," said Clint. "It's just her and her mom. Shari just likes the best of everything."

"Well,that's very flattering for you,then;she chose you."

"Yes," said Clint.

"I chose this one mainly for the yard. Shari wanted you to look at the yard because this one has opted for the lawn service."

They walked outside. "This is beautiful,"said Clint. "It's like they have their own gardener. Obviously the lawn service her does more than cut grass and whack weeds."

"Now the house I think she'd like is across the street."

Clint knelt to look at a yellow rose, then suddenly began to run."Bee!" he yelled and took off downthe street.

Geez, Reba thought while running after him, I need to get back to regular exercise. When she caught up to him, he was nursing a sting and had begun to swell all over. He pulled an epipen out of his cargo pocket and stabbed himself in the leg through his pants, wincing.

"Oh,my-" Reba began and dialed 911.

_**Oh my gosh, this is so boring I can't stand it anymore. That's it. I'm done.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Reba – People In Glass Houses 7**

Clint stirred on the ER bed and Reba woke with a start from the rocking chair she slept in. She looked at her watch – 5:30 AM. Sheesh. She had never sat up with a client in the hospital before. Her commission had better be extra cheesy. But then again, she'd never sold a house in the million-dollar range before. She looked at Clint, who had made a noise, but had gone back into la-la land thanks to massive amounts of antihistamines so powerful they even over rode the steroids they gave him to reduce the swelling.

She had never seen such a swift and dangerous reaction, even with the shot he gave himself. His face and tongue swelled up and by the time the EMTs arrived in three minutes, his trachea was closing –classic anaphalactic shock. The ER doctor told Reba that if he hadn't had the Epipen and if she hadn't called 911 when she did, he would have died. Not maybe. Would have.

He didn't look anything like himself, though the prednisone had lessened the swelling considerably. She hated to admit it, rat that he was, but he looked kind of cute in a vulnerable, kid-like way. Oh, geez, she thought; I'm just doing my usual "Fix-It Reba" thing. That's what got me into the relationship with Brock when I was dating Terry the bar owner (Not the tiny Terry). Terry was a planner,like Reba. He liked to have fun, but he was business-like when he needed to be and rarely made rash decisions. Brock, on the other hand, had been like a big kid, always out for a good time or whatever was easiest. He really did want to be a dentist. And he was a good one. But there were plenty of nights when he was in dental school that she stayed up all night with him calling out origins and insertions of muscles, nerves, and bones. She made him grilled cheese sandwiches in the middle of the night when he came in beat from prosthodontic lab. She even met him in the dean's office for a quickie one weekend when Brock was on emergency call for the hospital and couldn't leave.

He probably would have given up and quit without her pushing and encouraging him. Reba shook her head. She didn't regret it anymore. She just didn't want to be the only grown-up in a relationship. So not only was she not interested in Clint because he was engaged and he had pretended he wasn't, but lying there full of drugs, she could feel herself wanting to rescue him –from what, Shari? – and she knew that was her cue to stay away.

She had phoned Shari, who had to stay for a meeting today but would be on the first flight out tomorrow instead of the following day. Reba thought that was a little weird. Shari **_was_** presenting ground-breaking research and as she had told Reba, the doctor said he was fine and would make a full recovery. But Shari should know how the closeness of death requires loved ones' support. Interesting how she could insure her patients got that but not her own future husband.

Reba tiptoed to the nurses' station and asked when they thought Clint might go home. She was told that when his doctor came in around seven she would decide whether to admit him or let him go home.

Within an hour, Reba was driving Clint back to his house. He was still zonked. How the hospital staff ever thought she was going to manage getting him in the house was beyond her. She parked as close to the kitchen door as she could get. The hospital had removed his keys and put them in a bag, so Reba retrieved those and opened the door,praying the alarm system wasn't set. Thank you, Jesus, it wasn't. She went back to the passenger's side and tried to open the door. But Clint was leaning up against it. Reba put her hip to his shoulder and opened the door slowly. Then, she pushed him upright. She thought she might be able to throw Clint over her shoulders like Brock did her when she was trying to beat up Barbara Jean for dying her hair red. She edged her butt up to Clint's stomach threw his arms over her shoulder, and pulled. Nothing.

Reba heaved a huge sigh and called Barbara Jean. Thirty minutes later, Clint was lying fully clothed in his bed.

Barbara Jean licked her lips and glanced at Reba. "Wanna try to undress him?"

"No!" yelled Reba.

"He'd be much more comfortable. I can't sleep in my clothes," whined BJ.

"The man has had enough dope to kill a giant squid. Now he can't be by himself because the nurse said he'll still need to get up and use the bathroom and he needs just fluids for 24 hours."

"So you're going to stay here and do that when he was so horrid to.."

"This is not just a commission, Barbara Jean. This is the right thing to do."

"BJ smirked. "You just want to see his-"

"I am not remotely interested. I am one human helping another human. Stocking up Brownie points in heaven," said Reba.

"Fine," said BJ, "Explain it like you want. Why you want to stick around with Mr. Boring when you could be on a date with cute TERRY..."

"Well, why don't you date him?"

"We're too much alike, and opposites attract. But I'll tell you this: The only thing short about Terry is his height."

Reba winced. "Oh, really, Barbara Jean, I so did NOT want to know that."

Reba called Shari's mom and explained the situation. Ms. Codex said that ordinarily she would come and nurse Gary but since she was already there and she was used to it and he is a preferred client, that she'd let Reba stay on until Shari got back.

Two hours later, Clint's eyes blinked and he asked for some water. Reba brought it to him and then sat down in a comfy chair in the corner of the room. He didn't seem to really be awake. She didn't want to force him to wake up if his body wasn't ready, so she didn't ask him questions or say hi. She took the water, gave him a small but genuine smile, and sat back down as his eyes closed again. She was reading the morning paper, the sunlight hitting the ends of her hair and setting them to glowing like embers. He blinked and stared. Then he stared some more.

"Golden," he said.

"Hm?" said Reba.

"Golden, spun gold," said Clint, slurring his words.

Reba got up and came over. "I'm sorry, Clint, I can't understand you. Now what is it that you need?"

"Hair. Your hair.Spun gold."

"My hair is spun gold? Boy,you are high as a kite. Not spun gold. Five different products, a flatiron and a curling rod. And that was twenty-four hours ago."

She looked at his eyes. They were dilated and having trouble focusing. "C'mere," he slurred, " I wanna tell you something,"

Reba came closer. He said, "You saved my hiney."

"Nah," said Reba,"You did it yourself with that Epipen."

"NNNNNNNo, Reba. You saved me. So I owe you big."

"No, Clint; you would have done the same for me."

"I'm not show sewer. Um, so sure. I tend to be a selfish SOB. Anyway, I want to pay up now. So sit here-" he patted the bed- " - because it's a long story."

Reba did. "OK,if it's a story, that's not a problem. I love stories and they don't gather dust on my coffee table."

Suddenly,Clint grabbed her by the shoulders, tilted her back, pressed his mouth to hers, and grazed her tongue with his. Despite herself, she got a jolt all the way from her toes to the top of her head, with lots of warmth in all the old places. He was now repositioning and she was not stopping him. After all, he was doped up and would never remember this, right? Or he'd remember it like it was a drugged-out dream. But wasn't this taking advantage of a sick person?

Reba, you slut, she said to herself. Pull away. But she hadn't felt like this in so long. Dang, Gary Clinton – or at least DUI Clint – kissed even better than Dr. What's-His-Name. Oh, my soul; she had forgotten Jack Morgan's name for a second! And what was she doing?

She pulled away and looked into Clint's eyes. They were blurry and dopey, for sure, but Reba thought she might have seen some real delight. Or it might just have been the Demerol.


	8. Chapter 8

**Reba – People In Glass Houses 8**

Clint had gone back to sleep quickly. Reba knew that kiss was mostly Demerol and Clint probably wouldn't remember it. The problem was that _she would_. She tried talking herself out of her feelings, telling herself that how one felt was not the most important thing. What was right was the most important thing. Clint had already told Shari he loved her. He had made the commitment to marry her. In a few weeks they would buy a very large mortgage on a huge house together. Then a few days after that, they would actually get married. It was practically a done deal.

Practically. And it was into that little window that Reba's heart leapt. Her strong mind constantly refocused away from Clint and onto her family, her career, that hydrangea in the front yard that simply refused to bloom – anything but Clint. But her heart kept pouring over the fun they shared looking at houses without Shari. She thought of his quick, quirky sense of humor, his child-like wonder at the grandness of some of the houses, his humility when he confessed he didn't think they needed a home that large, his sadness at the thought of never having children and his mortification when he realized he had shared that with Reba.

She thought about how peaceful and happy he looked sleeping compared with the anxious look he wore when around Shari, always trying to please her. And of course, she kept returning to that kiss.

It was in one of these moments, right when she was playing the video-in-her-head back in slo-mo, and Clint was just millimeters away from her mouth when her ringtone blared away, "Why Haven't I Heard From You?"

It was Shari. She would be at Clint's house in thirty minutes.

Reba took a deep breath and steeled herself to say goodbye. She tapped Clint on the shoulder.

"Shari's on her way,Clint. Will you be alright for about thirty minutes?"

Clint blinked and then his eyes opened. "Hmm?" he murmured, waking up. He sat up in the bed. "Wow." He blinked again. "I feel great."

Reba smirked. "Steroids."

Clint slung his feet over and stood up.

"Now, don't be so antsy. You've been down for a day and a half," said Reba.

He stretched. "Doesn't matter. I'm done with the bed. So, Shari's on her way from the airport, huh?"

Reba picked up her purse. "Yep, you look fine to me. Well, I hope you keep feeling great and stay away from flowers, okay?" She left the bedroom and headed for the back door.

Clint jogged after her. "Wait, Reba; I haven't gotten a chance to thank you."

Reba opened the door and continued to walk through it and out to her car, talking the whole way, not making eye contact, not slowing down. She knew if she stopped and looked at him that it would hurt her more to say goodbye. "The best thanks is you getting well and staying well. Tell Shari hello and I'll call her if the owners of the house in The Groves take her offer." She got in her car.

Clint had stopped at the door. He looked a bit hurt. Reba knew her grandmothers were turning over in their graves. She was being selfish, trying to protect her feelings. As her Granny would say, hurt feelings are no excuse for rudeness. So she motioned for him to come over.

"I'm sorry, Clint. I've just got cabin fever so I hurried out. I enjoyed taking care of you and I am so glad you're better. Shari's a lucky girl." She patted his arm, which was on the door. He slowly and deliberately looked down, covered her hand with his other hand, and then looked back up at her.

She swallowed as the zing went all over her. But how dare he, said her brain. How dare he? She pulled her arm inside the car.

"Reba," Clint began before Reba could form an appropriate response.

And then Shari drove up and began gathering her things inside her car.

"Later," said Clint.

"No," said Reba, "There will be no 'later.' Shari is a client, too, and besides that, she is a friend." She put the car in reverse.

Clint hissed, "You mean Shari is the one with the money so you have to do what she wants."

Reba glared at Clint. "If you want to think that, if it helps your over-inflated male ego to think that, then, fine."

Clint stuck his head into the window just as Reba was about to let off the brake and said, "Then why did you keep kissing me when I was high on Demerol yesterday?"

Reba let the brake off and Clint had to jerk his head back to keep from getting hit. Shari got out of her Mercedes, waved at Reba, ran over to Clint, and gave him a long, passionate kiss with plenty of body and arm movement. Then she turned around and waved at Reba, who pasted on a fake cheesy smile. Reba drove off.

Reba was still fuming when she got home. Barbara Jean was there, of course, with Van, Cheyenne, and Jake. Reba looked at Van. "Do you just never work? Why are you always home?"

"Hey, I get all my work done," said Van. "I'm just super efficient. Plus, I'm so good-looking that the houses sell themselves if I'm in them."

Reba looked at Barbara Jean. "Why are **you** here?"

"If I'm at home, I'll eat and get fat again. There's always major drama over here that keeps my mind off food. And since I finished my totem pole, I have more free time."

Reba put her hand to her forehead. "Okay; I'll bite. Did you say, 'totem pole?'"

"Yes," Barbara Jean said, "I started it when I took that course on woodcarving at the Junior College. I was really into the Inuit culture. Remember how I fixed that meal with whale fat?"

Kyra walked into the den. "It wasn't whale fat, Barbara Jean; it was bacon fat. You took the coffee can you store bacon grease in and turned it into soup. I almost called the American Heart Association to report you."

"Anyhow, I designed a totem for our family." She took a small totem out of her purse. "See, here's the scale model. Each animal represents someone in our family. Brock is the bear…"

Reba said, "Brock's not in your family anymore, Barbara Jean."

"…Kyra is the jackal…"

Kyra smiled a wry smile and went upstairs.

"…Cheyenne is the peacock,Van is the turkey…"

Van said, "Yes! Our national symbol!"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Van. The eagle is our national symbol. Ben Franklin wanted it to be the turkey because turkeys were all over the place back then but everyone knew how dumb turkeys are and refused."

Van made a face, but Barbara Jean continued.

"Jake's the mountain goat, Elizabeth's the dove, Henry's the Tasmanian Devil, I'm the eagle, and Reba's the wolf."

"The wolf?" said Reba. "You think I'm a wolf? Do I hunt in packs? Do I have fur? Can I see in the dark?"

Barbara Jean considered this for a moment."Hmmm. No, but you have a tendency to tear people to bits if you don't get your way, people are afraid of you, you have really blue eyes, and when you hit those high notes, you sound a little like a…"

"I am not in the mood for your insane tangents. I have lots of work to catch up on," said Reba.

"I am not insane," said Barbara Jean defensively. "I'm not crazy. I'm not even a little bit unstable. And no one in my family is, either. I resent your insinuating that we might need help being normal."

"Where's Henry?" asked Cheyenne.

"Oh, he's at his therapist. Dr.Cooper stepped him up to three times a week."

Reba sighed. "I'll be in the garage office doing computer work," she said. "Only disturb me if you are missing a limb, throwing up blood, or have recently died. And don't come in the office; call my cell. I don't want blood, vomit, or cadaver fluids on the office carpet."

She slammed the back door. Cheyenne said, "So I guess it's a no-go with the cute principal."

"Don't worry," said Barbara Jean. "I booked Reba and Terry on a weekend 'Cruise To Nowhere' out of Galveston for this weekend."

Cheyenne frowned. "But Barbara Jean, she doesn't even like Terry."

"Sometimes things only need a little push. They are perfect for each other."

Van cocked his head. "I'm not so sure."

"I like him," said Jake, "He always brings me Twizzlers."

Cheyenne said, "He brings me earrings."

Barbara Jean said, "He brings me Beanie Babies."

Van finally said, "Well, yeah, he brings me…wait; he doesn't give me squat!"

Just then, the phone rang. It was Terry. He wanted to come over and cook dinner for Reba. And he wanted everyone else out of the house until midnight. He said he had a question to ask her that could change her life.

"Oh,no," said Cheyenne, "He's going to get turned down again. How many women has he asked?"

"I think seventeen," said Barbara Jean.

"Ouch," said Jake.

"But none of them know what I know about him," said Barbara Jean.

Cheyenne gave her a look. "Barbara Jean, we don't discuss my m-o-m having s-e-x in front of V-a-n!"

Van looked confused.

Barbara Jean shook her head. "Oh, that's not what I mean," she said. "Terry is actually a major software designer for Nintendo. Oops." She covered her mouth. "I just blew his cover."

Jake's eyes narrowed. "No, that's wrong, because I've memorized all their names, none of which sound like they're anywhere west of Kyoto or east of Tokyo."

"He has a code name," blurted out Barbara Jean, and covered her mouth. "Tomiko Yamaguchi. And he's worth nineteen point eight billion dollars."


	9. Chapter 9

**Reba: People In Glass Houses 9**

Reba blinked. "That little person is worth almost 20 what?"

"Billion," said Barbara Jean. "As in after a million and before a trillion. As in he could buy Mississippi and still have change leftover for Delaware."

Reba had to sit down. It's not that she was even interested in Terry romantically. But what change a good person could bring about with that sort of money! What an awesome responsibility! And she knew he was thinking of choosing her as his wife. Her skin crawled at the thought, but then she thought of the money.

Reba had always given whatever she had to help others, even when she and Brock were in school. Ten percent went to the church, five percent to local non-profits, and another five to national charities. She knew that to God the size of the gift didn't matter, but to individuals around the world, it did. The Gates had almost stamped out malaria in South America. What could she and Terry do? Safe drinking water? Vitamin A for kids' eyes? Birth control for women in developing countries? Forgetting for a moment how much he made her skin crawl, Reba thrilled at the fantasy of being able to save a life from starvation, disease, or ignorance.

People had certainly married for even less romantic reasons than charity. In the past, kings and queens married their children to other nobility to prevent war and build empires. Surely she could live with someone irritating for the sake of doing good.

She brought Terry to her mind's eye and involuntarily winced. Could she? Would she?

Probably not. He would expect marital privileges. And that was something she simply could not do, ever, with someone she did not both love and share physical chemistry. She could love Terry as a fellow human, but that was as far as she could go. She would be lying to herself and to him if she pretended otherwise.

That night, the rest of the family went out to eat and to a movie. Reba knew what she had to do. It should be done as soon as possible after Terry came. Then they could relax and maybe go out as friends or something.

Terry knocked and Reba answered the door. He was in a suit and he carried a small gift package. Reba's heart went in her throat despite knowing what he was going to ask. She never liked hurting anyone's feelings.

"Terry, I-" Reba began, but Terry held up his hand.

"Reba, I know you don't love me. And that's okay. I realize I could never hope to compete with the likes of Jack Morgan or even Brock. But if you'll just hear me out, I would appreciate your time. I know you think I was going to propose. That's what everyone thinks. And that's exactly what I want them to think."

Reba nodded and motioned for him to come in. She should at least give him the courtesy of listening.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"No, thanks. I need to be clear-headed," said Terry. He settled himself on the couch and Reba sat in the chair next to it. She waited for him to gather himself and sat patiently with an open expression.

"I've been interested in you for some time now, Reba. I think you know that. I know I've irritated you and have showed up where I wasn't wanted. I have given the impression that we were engaged when we really weren't."

Reba wanted to say, "No, you flat-out lied," but she kept her mouth shut as promised.

Terry continued. "The proposal I have in mind is a little…unorthodox." He stopped to gauge Reba's reaction.

Reba lifted her eyebrows. What in the world…?

"I am about to embark on a new phase of my career. I have built a corporate empire that spans the globe. I have traveled all over the world, met many different people, and learned a lot about other cultures. And do you know what I found out about all these different people in the world?" Asked Terry.

Reba frowned in concentration. "There's sucker born every minute?"

Terry smiled. "No, Reba. I have made lots of money. And I suspect that my corporation is as guilty of others of corruption, bureaucracy, and dishonesty in some places. No one is perfect. I have systems in place that keep that to a minimum, but it's time for me to hand the reins over to someone who can get rid of that totally. As of next week, my vice president in charge of systems will become the CEO of my corporation. I will be retired, except for my position on the board of directors."

"Congratulations," said Reba. "Not many people can retire this early. Some don't want to."

"Well,I am simply switching jobs.I will be working full time, probably putting in even more hours with the new company."

"New company? You're going to build another empire?"

Terry's eyes lit up. "No, Reba; it's not a business. It's a foundation."

"Wow," said Reba, getting a chill from the odd coincidence of her thoughts about Terry just this morning. "So, what will the foundation benefit?"

"That's what I've got to have help doing," said Terry. "There's so much need in the world. I've seen it up close and personal. I am simply overwhelmed. I cannot do it alone. I've tried forming committees, but they've all got their little pet projects and I don't get the feeling that it's right, you know?"

He looked at Reba. She knew about trying to get a group consensus about ideas. She nodded.

"We may not be the perfect couple for a marriage for love, but we are perfect for a marriage of minds. You have good instincts. You have a broad perspective. You have a soft heart and a firm faith in God. You know the difference between a want and a need. You are a problem solver."

Reba blinked. What was he asking?

"You are a survivor. Lots of people on the planet are trying desperately to survive and not succeeding. I think with my money and business sense and your heart and fire, we can actually make some real positive changes in the world."

"So…you want me to be in a partnership with you for the foundation?" asked Reba.

"The foundation has to be run by people committed not only to the cause but also to each other. There must be absolute trust. I will not ask you to love me or even to make love to me. We will live together, work together, make decisions together. My money will be your money and vice-versa."

Reba looked down and smoothed her hair with her hand. How could she respond to this? There was no way this was a coincidence. She hadn't told anyone. And she had been praying about it for several weeks. Was this an opportunity from God Himself? But no,He wouldn't ask her to have a fake, loveless marriage, would He?

Terry took one of her hands. "I don't want you to make a decision right now. A lot of money is enticing, but you would never let yourself be swayed by greed. I know you believe marriage should be for love, but just for tonight, would you consider it? Would you think of it as a princess might consider marrying someone in order to do good for her country and the human race? You know I would never abuse you. I would cherish you, even worship you. But I would never expect more than fellowship and a marriage of souls for the sake of the betterment of society."

Reba took a deep breath and shook her head. "Why do you think I'm the only one who can fill the bill for you? Hundreds of women would give their right arm for the chance to do what's you're asking, and many of them smarter, more savvy with money, and certainly many of whom could easily fall in love with you. I don't have what it takes, even if I did want to be a world-class philanthropist."

Terry shook his head. "I've been with lots of women who also didn't know I was loaded. They didn't give me a second look until they knew. And then they were all over me. You treat me the same no matter what. That's integrity. And I've yet to find another woman who is not a little swayed by the prospect of having everything she ever wanted."

"So why do you think I wouldn't turn into that kind of person?"

Terry shrugged. "Just a hunch. But my hunches made me rich. I'm rarely wrong. Think about it. Let's meet at Pritchett's Diner tomorrow at one PM. That gives you…sixteen hours to think it over."

Reba started to protest. "Terry, I know what my response is. That's a form of cheating. It's dishonest. It's…"

Terry got up and walked to the door. "I refuse to listen to any response until one tomorrow. Now open the package and I'll see you tomorrow."

He left. The box sat on the sofa. It was certainly jewelry. And it was from Tiffany's in New York City. Reba sat down next to it as if it were a bomb. She knew she was going to say no; of course she was. But she was curious as to what kind of ring he had meant to entice her with.

There was no harm in opening it. He expected her to do it. She could open it, look at it, and put it back. She wouldn't even try it on.

She carefully untied the silken dusty blue bow. That would look beautiful in Elizabeth's hair. The box wasn't wrapped, so she lifted the top. There was a small blue velvet box. She took it out and slowly opened it. The hinges creaked. She had only opened it a half inch, but already she saw sparkles. She opened it all the way and drew in her breath.

It was not a traditional engagement ring by any estimate. It was not ostentatiously large, but a beautifully cut teardrop emerald ringed by tiny diamonds on an Empire setting. This ring looked brand new yet fit for European nobility from the eighteenth century. She'd never seen anything like it. Normally, jewelry didn't appeal to her much. It was fussy and looked too showy. This ring, however, simply looked like a family heirloom, something one might wear to remind oneself of a great-grandmother or rich old eccentric aunt.

Without thinking, she slipped it on. She looked at it on her hand. It fit her perfectly. The deep green contrasted well with her alabaster skin. She went over to a mirror and held it up to her chest. Instantly she saw herself on Terry's arm at galas to benefit refugees from Darfur, cancer research, and The World Food Bank. She saw herself at her computer, Terry looking over her shoulder, as they pulled chunks of money from investments and sent them to build Habitat for Humanity houses in Myanmar.

Suddenly, Cheyenne stormed through the front door. "Because I'm hungry, that's why! This baby is sucking all my food into his stomach. He's a little miniature Van. So it's not my fault!" She stomped upstairs. Reba put her hand behind her so they wouldn't notice the ring. But Kyra noticed the movement. And Reba knew she knew.

Reba looked after her and then looked at Van, who was walking in with Elizabeth. "What's with Cheyenne?" she asked, burying the boxes and ribbons in the couch pillows.

Van rolled his eyes as he put Elizabeth down. "Oh,she ate an entire bucket of popcorn before it even got all the way down the row to me. All I did was complain that I paid for it and got nothing, and she goes off."

"Why's she going upstairs?"

"Apparently, she and Elizabeth will be staying the night because she assumes I can't bear to sleep with her."

Reba kissed Elizabeth and picked her up. "That's ridiculous. It's just hormones and swollen ankles." She yelled up at Cheyenne. "Cheyenne, come back down here and talk this out."

Kyra shook her head. "Van's gonna have to compliment her to get her down."

Cheyenne yelled down, "No! I'm tired and fat and I don't want to sleep with him."

Van sighed. "I don't think you're fat. You are carrying my piggish, porker of a son. Now come downstairs so we can go home where we belong. You are not fat. You are skinnier than all other pregnant women combined. I am worried about you. Please come down and eat the rest of Barbara Jean's cobbler before we leave."

Brief silence. "You're just saying that," said Cheyenne, at the top of the stairs.

"No, I'm not," said Van. "You are beautiful. You are model gorgeous. You are sexy. You are like…"

Reba could sense Van was about to use his imagination, which had never gone well in the past. Kyra began one of her slow, wry smiles.This was getting better.

"Leave it, Van," Reba hissed. "Stop now!"

But Cheyenne was sashaying down the stairs and Van thought he was on a roll. "You are like a beautiful circle of life."

Kyra's eyebrows went up. Pay dirt.

Cheyenne stopped and frowned slightly. "A circle?"

"The circle of life!" yelled Van. "A big, beautiful circle, a ball of life!"

Reba and Elizabeth both put one hand over their face. Kyra smiled and sighed contentedly.

Cheyenne's eyes narrowed, she turned around, and stomped back upstairs.

Van threw up his hands. "Fine! Fine! I wanted to watch the playoffs anyway instead of that stupid House and Garden channel that never has any gardens. It's just houses!" Van left.

"Well, that was almost the perfect end to a perfect evening!" said Kyra. "Now all I need is some left over cobbler and to find out what Mom is hiding…" She said this loudly for Cheyenne's benefit.

Suddenly Cheyenne's head appeared upstairs from around the corner. "Whadjasay?"

Kyra looked straight at Reba, who slowly put Elizabeth down and backed toward the kitchen. "Mom's hiding something behind her back and there is a lump in the sofa cushions."

Cheyenne came down so fast she seemed to float despite her baby belly. Kyra threw the cushions off the sofa and revealed the Tiffany's boxes and the ribbon. Then Reba bolted and ran for the kitchen door.

Unfortunately for Reba, Kyra's band had begun running two miles a day in preparation for their tour season. Reba didn't have a chance. Kyra grabbed her before she'd gotten fully out the door.

Kyra grappled with her for a minute but was able to finally wrench her left hand up enough to see the ring.

By this time Cheyenne had made it out of the house and saw it as well.

"Oh my God," said Cheyenne. "My stepfather-to-be is a Little Person."

"Oh my God," said Kyra, looking at the ring. "My stepfather-to-be is stinking rich!"


	10. Chapter 10

Reba: People In Glass Houses 10

Reba: People In Glass Houses 10

While Reba was caught trying to explain tiny Terry's engagement ring on her finger, Clint (Gary) was attempting to find a home Shari liked. She had discarded the Mission-style bungalow he liked right away because it was not big and it was too casual. Clint really loved it, but Shari "simply could not live in it."

She was driving her BMW to his house to drop him off before she went on call for the night. She was trying to decide between a French Chateau style and a True Tudor.The Tudor would go with all her furniture, but she decided she wanted a change.

"We'll just get new furniture," she said. "Besides, it will be our home, not just mine. This way we can both pick it out."

Clint wanted to say he didn't like formal anyway and she could pick it all out herself. But instead nhe said, "I'm not really that good at picking out furniture. I tend to just look for what is comfortable. I think you'd better do it, Honey."

"Aw,"she said and pouted her mouth. "I thought we could do it together."

He used to find her pout so fetching. Why all of a sudden did it make him want to curl his lip? He used to enjoy being manipulated by Shari. But now, it had begun to irritate him. This did not bode well. He began to think how he could change himself back into that person that adored her specific, demanding tastes. He had always told himself she liked the best and she had chosen him. It flattered him. It should flatter him. She is so good at what she does and her home should be the best that she wants as well. She gives so much of herself away at work that she needs to be fed with the best when she's not saving children's lives. He would continue to give her the best. If he didn't, she couldn't perform well at work. And what would MD Anderson do without Shari at the top of her game?

"You're mighty quiet," she said to him, and woke him up from his thoughts.

"Just thinking about how wonderful you are and how lucky I am to be your finace," he said.

She smiled. "I only choose the best, Gary," she said.

He would step up to the plate. Forget this dalliance with Reba. She is not your type, he told himself. She doesn't care about the best; she spends all of her time thinking about what other people need.

And his heart skipped a beat. Reba cared about others when she wasn't working. Shari cared about herself when she wasn't at work. That had never bothered Clint before. He was the altruistic one in the relationship and Shari was the performer. She cared about her patients, but that was it. He came after her patients. Up until now, that had been okay. He still understood it, but now that he knew it might be possible for someone else to care for him as a person and not just as someone to prop them up, he began to want it.

"Gary, what do you think? You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" said Shari.

"I'm sorry, Honey; I was trying to remember the difference between French furniture and Tudor furniture." Whew, that was a good save, thought Clint.

Shari sighed. "Gary, I gave you those books. You were supposed to read them in your spare time."

"Neither of us has had much of that lately," said Clint.

Shari's cell phone rang. "Hello?" She paused, listening. She rolled her eyes. "His name is Gary. G-A-R-Y. Not Clint; Gary. Why wouldany sane person call him by part of his last name? If his parents had wanted him to be called Clint, they would have named him Clint. But they didn't. They named him Gary!" By this time Shari was yelling into the cell phone. Clint took it gently away from her.

"Ace?" he asked.

In response, Shari sighed and said, "It is time for both of you to grow up and call you Gary."

Clint said, "It's an affectionate name from my past. I like it."

"Well, I don't, so you need to tell him to stop it."

Clint frowned at Shari. "Geez, calm down, Hon. Ace, buddy! Why didn't you call me on my cell? Oh; I forgot to plug it in."

Shari shook her head and lifted one hand and said, "Surprise, surprise."

"What's up?" Clint asked Ace. He listened for a minute while Shari drove and continued to fume. "Look, if you want to see her so badly, why don't you just call the number on her real estate signs?"

Shari turned in to Clint's driveway.

"Dude, I told you. She's our real estate agent. I have no idea where she lives. I don't care. You find out. Look, I gotta go…Drinks Saturday night? With whom? …uh…I really don't think Shari and I care to socialize with our real estate agent, Ace…Well, you do have other friends, right? I'm hanging up…I'm going…"

Shari unlocked Clint's door. "So Ace wants to date Reba? Where did he see her?"

Clint got out and walked around to Shari's window. "Some cocktail party he went to with another agent who subsequently dumped him at that party and went home with another guy."

"Yeowch," said Shari. "But really, what can you expect when you hang around sales reps and real estate agents? It's like 'Desperate Housewives.'"

"I don't know; I'll bet the hospital can get pretty 'Sex and the City' sometimes."

"I just ignore it. If everyone would keep their mind on their work instead of their groins then I wouldn't be the only one saving lives around there."

Clint knelt to give her a peck on the lips. "My Albert Schweitzer!"

Shari smiled and Clint knew that's exactly what she wanted to hear. She was the savior of the hospital. He had gotten really good at thinking up those lines. For a second he was glad about that. Then he realized exactly what that meant about their relationship and he wasn't so sure it was a good thing.

That night, Clint couldn't sleep. He got online and looked up Reba's page on the real estate company's site. It was simple, to the point, and informative. But it had no information about her personally. He decided to Google her.

He didn't find much. She had a Facebook page In her profile she said she just got it to keep up with Kyra's and Jake's friends. It did list her likes and dislikes, her favorite books and movies, and her favorite quotes.

But he wanted to know more. He knew he was marrying Shari. But the time he had spent with Reba looking at houses had made him see it was possible to have a real friendship with a woman he was attracted to. He had always fallen for the beautiful and smart ones who were the most popular. That's why he had married his first wife,who left himfor a rich businessman. And he hadn't gotten remarried soon after because the women he liked usually weren't interested in educators.

As for this Reba Hart search online, he knew it was not really the best thing to do. But he convinced himself that he could be looking her up to make sure she had the background to sell a million-dollar house. They had rescinded their offer on the house in The Groves because Shari had found those others. Reba hadn't made a fuss at all, though Clint knew it had cost her a lot of time and paperwork. She was just basically a good person.

Not that Shari was bad, she just didn't think much beyond her career. And not that he was bad. He loved the kids at his school. He enjoyed encouraging the teachers and other workers. But Shari never asked him about his work. Up until now, it hadn't really bothered him. But Reba had asked all about his past teaching, what he liked and didn't like, when he'd decided to become a principal, if he ever missed teaching.

Reba's eyes lit up when he talked about his plans for an after school reading and sports club. She agreed that it would help reluctant readers and even volunteered to be a mentor to a child when it got off the ground. She laughed when he described the last school play, at which a kindergartener had forgotten her lines and made up new ones that were better than the originals.

He found himself wishing he could hear her ask him another question. He wanted to see that glistening hair, those pool-blue eyes, hear that quirky mouth of hers ask him another question.

But he was marrying Shari. He had promised. She was depending on him. She loved him. At least, he thought she did. Maybe.

He had to find out if Shari really loved him. He would ask her after her next complete night of sleep, so she would be alert. He checked the schedule she had given him. Let's see…that would be in…ten days? He had to know sooner than that. He'd have to go to the hospital tomorrow morning and catch her before she got really tired.


	11. Chapter 11

**Reba –People In Glass Houses 11**

"I am not marrying Terry!" yelled Reba.

"Then what, " yelled Cheyenne, "Is that gorgeous piece of rock doing on your wedding finger?"

"I just wanted to see what it looked like," said Reba. "Is that so bad?"

"Um, no, Mom," said Kyra, "But there's no way you can give it back in the box it came in."

"I don't think that will be a problem," said Reba, looking back at the ring on her finger.

Cheyenne was entranced. "It is very beautiful," she murmured.

"Yes, it is," sighed Reba.

Kyra frowned at them as if they were aliens. "Sheesh, you guys, wake up. It's a cut-up rock and it's wedged into some pieces of metal. Big hairy deal."

"So, how did Terry get rich?" asked Cheyenne, staring at the ring.

Reba was still looking at the ring also. "Nintendo," she breathed.

"He works for Nintendo?" said Kyra.

"He's the CEO," said Reba dreamily.

"No, he's not. The CEO is some Japanese guy."

"He uses an alias."

"That is too freaky," said Cheyenne, still staring at the ring.

"Okay, you guys are weirding me out. Take that thing off, Mom," said Kyra.

They all walked in, Reba and Cheyenne looking at the ring and Kyra dragging them through the door.

Reba sighed as she took it off and put it back in the velvet box. "I guess I need a gift bag to return it to him in."

Just then, Barbara Jean walked it. "Oh-My-Gosh is that the ring Terry gave you?"

"I'm not accepting it, Barbara Jean," said Reba.

"Oh, Reba you're such a slave to your conventions," said Barbara Jean. "I still have one more surprise for you for this weekend."

Reba ignored her. Cheyenne and Kyra sat on kitchen stools, prepared to hear this conversation, but Reba said, "I have to get the ring back to Terry tonight so he won't get the wrong idea. Cheyenne, go home. Barbara Jean, go home. Kyra, go practice or do homework, or something!"

She grabbed her purse off the hook near the door and left in her car.

On the way to Terry's, Reba found herself going past Clint's school. It seemed like such a positive place. But maybe she was just reading things into it. Suddenly the memory of his lips on hers flashed into her mind and hit her so that she almost went up on the curb. What the heck was that? And why had she come this way? It was almost unconscious. Almost.

She pulled over to the curb and stopped to catch her breath. She had never had such an intense reaction to a memory before. Now she couldn't get him out of her head. And she had done so well with that since Terry had come over. When she thought about Terry and his proposal, she didn't have time for thoughts of Clint. Maybe that was a good thing. Perhaps that is what was good about Terry. At least right now, he could keep her from pining away from something that she could never have.

She looked at the gift bag on the passenger seat. There was no harm in keeping it for the night, just so she could get some sleep and not think about Clint. At least if she was awake, it would be planning exactly what to say to Terry tomorrow when she returned the ring. Yes. She would wait. Yes.

See, already she had no more thoughts of Clint. Bang! But there it went again, only this time it was seeing his peaceful face asleep. Bam! His hair on his forehead. Boof! His tight buns from running three miles a day. Oh, geez, this wasn't better; it was ten times worse! She grabbed the ring box out of the gift bag and put the ring back on. Yeeeessssss…there. All gone.Whew.

She drove back to her house with the ring. She took her shower with the ring. And she went to bed. With the ring.

Ms. Codex picked up the phone at precisely eight AM and dialed Reba. "How's the hunt going for my wonderful daughter Shari?"

"They've narrowed it down to English and French," said Reba.

"Thank God," said Ms. Codex. "I thought she might let Gary have his way for once and his taste is absolutely plebian. I am so pleased with the way you've been handling this, Reba. Shari has continued to praise your insights and your condescension to her tastes. She did study for a semester at the Sorbonne in Paris, you know."

"She mentioned that," said Reba.

Ms. Codex tapped her Blackberry stylus on her mahogany desk. "It is so important that you listen to Shari. Gary, bless his heart, can't tell a corbel from a chair rail. He has more time on his hands than Shari, but he refuses to learn the basics of architecture. Whatever she sees in that unambitious man I'll never know."

"Well," said Reba, "Shari does like the best of everything, and we don't know all she knows about him. If she chose him, I'm sure he is the best for her."

"You are absolutely right, Reba. My daughter has excellent judgement. Thank you for that gentle reminder. Oh, remember to be finding an appropriate gift for them at the closing."

"Oh, yes; what do you think that would be?"

"Well, my dear, that is entirely up to you," said Ms. Codex frostily.

"Well, I've never had an account so large before. Could you give me an idea of what other agents with large accounts have given?"

"Let's see…last year, Gina Huff gave the Simpsons a top-of-the-line outdoor gas grill. And Jeff Tatum gave the Prices a golf cart."

Ms. Codex heard Reba gulp. "What's the matter, Reba? A little out of your league?"

"Well, it's certainly unexpected. But if that's what our clients want, that's what they'll get. And you won't give me any specific hints about Cl- um, Gary and Shari?"

"No, you are on your own. And if you truly know your client well enough to continue at this level, you will find something perfect. Goodbye, Reba."

Ms. Codex smiled. Reba had done well finding a home for her daughter, working overtime and probably wouldn't make any more per hour on this sale than she would on a smaller house. But she figured Reba wouldn't be able to please Shari on the gift, and then she could try Van on the next big account. She could play them off each other for months, both of them working themselves to the bone and never coming out ahead. Eventually, they'd figure it out and go back to their piddling little ranch home sales, but for now, it was saving her tons of money and time. She didn't have to pay the big cuts her top sellers demanded but she could sell the houses with the big payoffs. She leaned back in her chair and popped a whiskey sour candy in her mouth and chased it with a sip of Fresca.

Reba hung the phone up. She knew already what Ms. Codex was doing. She had known it from the beginning. But real estate agents sometimes had to play these games in order to learn the business. She needed to sell one big house so she knew how to do it, even if she wouldn't make much from the sale. She saw it as part of her education. Van did as well. When they'd gotten their education from Ms.Codex, they'd go elsewhere. But right now, they stayed where they were.

And right now, it was time for her to leave to meet Terry. And the ring was still on her finger.


	12. Chapter 12

**Reba - People In Glass Houses 12**

Reba sat up in bed panting and sweating for the fourth night in a row. The dream had completely overwhelmed her again.

She and Clint were on a deserted beach. It was dusk. He had taken her hand and led her into the surf. He splashed her until her gauzy white dress was clinging to her body. She knew he could see every curve. His shorts clung to his legs and she couldn't help but notice his interest. He stepped away slightly to get a good full look. And then he came in quickly and caught her whole body up in a full, hard kiss. She responded and opened her mouth. He picked her up, still kissing her, and carried her to a large bedspread he had laid in the small valley tucked between the primary and secondary dunes.

Her head had barely touched the blanket when he began to move on top of her. He was balancing on his elbows so he didn't smash her and enabled her to use her arms and hands, which she began to do. He moaned in pleasure and…

She sat bolt upright. She must do something, and soon. This had to stop.

Clint hurried into the children's wing and took the elevator to the sixth floor. Shari would be having coffee in the doctor's lounge before rounds. She'd also have half a bagel and fat-free cream cheese unless a patient was coding or had to have emergency surgery and she had to assist the surgeon.

He was in luck. She was reading the paper. She looked up, startled. A few other doctors were pouring coffee and picking Krispy Kremes from a box.

"Why aren't you at work?" she said. "Is Mom okay?"

"Your mom is great. I just needed to see you," said Clint.

"If this is about that bungalow-"she began.

"No, Honey, this has nothing to do with houses or weddings. This has to do with you little old you and little old me."

"Well, speak for yourself, Buster. I am neither little nor old." She frowned. "Really, Gary; I have rounds. Why are you here if it's not an emergency?"

"I want to know if you love me."

Shari blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Do you love me, Shari?" Clint touched her hand that was holding the paper. All the other doctors stopped eating their doughnuts and watched.

She shrunk back from his touch. "I am marrying you, Gary Clinton."

"Yes, but we've been so caught up first in planning the wedding and now in looking for a house that I haven't heard you say it in a while and I just needed to hear it."

"Why couldn't this wait until I get off?"

"We're about to spend the rest of our lives together, Shari."

"Exactly. So what sense does it make to barge into my workspace and demand the public declaration of a private matter? We'll have plenty of witnesses at the ceremony. 743 to be exact. Now scoot back to your little school."

Eyebrows raised around the room and the other doctors waited for Clint's response to that slur.

Clint frowned.

"Don't be a baby, Gary, really. You'd better buck up because I've got a grueling schedule for the next week and I'm going to need an awful lot of TLC at home. OOOhhh, great idea! When you get off at three, go to IKEA and buy me a paraffin bath for my feet. That would be so perfect, Gary. Now, tootles!" She swept from the room, the tail of her white coat slapping him in the face as she twirled away from him.

He said to the air that was left, "I don't get off at three. The kids do."

The other doctors came over and patted him on the back. "At least," said one, "We only have to see her a few times a day. You're going to have to live with her."

Ace stopped by Clint's office at the school to try once more to get Reba's home phone from him.

"So you're never going to give it to me, are you?" asked Ace.

"No," said Clint with no expression. "She's marrying some filthy rich guy named Terry."

"Reba is marrying for money? You've got to be kidding me. I thought she was, like, perfect."

"Apparently we all have our price."

"So how did you find out?" asked Ace.

"I called her house to see about the offer Shari and I made and her daughter told me she couldn't be reached because she was going to meet her fiancé Terry who was 'stinking rich' and that Reba probably was going to quit her job soon so maybe I should just talk to Van. I hung up."

Clint looked so depressed that Ace thought he might need to go home.

Ace stared at Clint. "You're not going to marry Shari, are you?"

Clint winced. "No. No, I'm not."

A grin began to spread over Ace's face. "I knew it. I knew you loved Reba, Man."

"But I didn't. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you wanted to marry Shari. And people don't always marry who they love. And sometimes, who you think you love turns out to be just who you lust. It wasn't my business."

"I never felt like this about Shari. But I waited too late and now Reba's taken by someone I can't compete with. Why do all the women I really love marry wealthy?"

"Dude, you couldn't have moved any faster. You were engaged to another woman, remember? Now, think. Did she ever give you any indication that she loved you back?"

Clint said, "Yes, I kissed her and she kissed me back. And I do mean she kissed back. But unfortunately it was while I was under the influence of narcotics, so she may not have taken it seriously. But she's been avoiding me ever since."

"Bingo," said Ace. "Then she did take it seriously. So there's a good possibility that she feels the same way and is marrying this guy because she thinks you're still marrying her boss' daughter."

"I could get her fired," said Clint.

"From what I've heard about Codex, it wouldn't be necessarily a bad thing."

"So, what do I do now?" asked Clint.

"You idiot, go hunt her down and stop her from marrying that guy she doesn't love!"

"Nope, I've got to tell Shari first."

After the sixth bedpan went out the window and down on the sidewalk outside the hospital, Shari turned back to Clint. "You've been cheating on me, haven't you?"

Clint was appalled. "Of course not. What man in his right mind would cheat on you?"

"That's true," said Shari. "I _am_ really hot."

"Which is why you deserve someone hot as well. Look at me, Shari. I stay fit, but I am far from buff. You need a man who can rise to the occasion. When we're together I look like your country uncle. I'm only five years older than you, but I look twenty."

"That's true, too. But you give such great foot massages. And you know just what to say to me when I'm down."

"There's someone out there who is not only buff, but he already thinks you're hotter than Angelina Jolie: My buddy Ace. And you will have a grand time educating him about the finer things in life."

"Well, I still want to buy the house. And I'm going on our honeymoon to Barbados."

"Your money. It always was anyway." He gave her a peck on the check. "No hard feelings?"

"Nah," she said, having left all her aggression in the bedpans. "When you asked me if I loved you, I started realizing that I really didn't. Now my mom is going to be totally pissed. But when she finds out I've got a date with the owner of a marble quarry in Italy, I really don't think there will be a problem."

Reba walked up the steps of the courthouse with Terry. She was sick of having her entire life ruled by clipping coupons and figuring out how to get from one paycheck to the next all by herself. She could become the next great female philanthropist and do all kinds of good with Terry's money. He wouldn't expect anything but friendship. And she could stand him for a few hours a day, if she saw him more like a business partner than a husband.

This must be what God wanted her to do. Nothing was stopping it. Every way she turned lately, things had been pointing in this direction. Late bill notices, Ms. Codex getting testy about Shari's present, Jake needing sinus surgery that her insurance didn't cover, Kyra breaking her guitar and needing a very costly repair, more and more pleas from non-profits to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the people in prison, free the oppressed – at least ten times more solicitous mail and phone calls than in the previous month.

But the main thing was the powerful visions of Clint. They got worse whenever she thought about something other than the bizarre possibility of marrying Terry. It was so bizarre that it drove Clint out of her mind. As soon as she made up her mind to go ahead with marrying Terry, the dreams and visions of Clint stopped. To her, that proved she was doing the right thing. At least for now. Her marriage to Brock had been a joke for months before their separation. At least with this marriage, they would know it was fake to begin with.


	13. Chapter 13

Reba –People In Glass Houses 13

Reba –People In Glass Houses 13

Clint went to Reba's house. Jake answered the door. Jake was now almost as tall as Van and he was only in the 10th grade.

"Hi, Jake, I'm Gary Clinton. Is your mom home?"

Jake looked him over. "Oh, yeah. You're that rich client she's been slaving over the past month or so."

Clint gave Jake a wry smile. "No, I'mjust an elementary school principal. It was my ex-fiance who was the rich client."

Jake made no move to call his mom or ask Clint in. "So, why do you want to see her?"

"It's personal," said Clint.

Jake crossed his arms. "How personal?"

"Look, Buddy, would you just call her to the door for me?"

"She's not here," said Jake, offering no more information.

"I tried her cell but she doesn't answer," said Clint.

"Nope; she wouldn't," said Jake.

"Are you going to tell me where she is?"

"Why should I? I don't know you from Adam's housecat. You could be a serial rapist or a televangelist."

Clint ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Look, Jake; I know your mom has plans to marry Terry."

Jake shrugged. "So?"

"Does she really love him?"

Jake shrugged again. "I guess so. Mom doesn't lie. And she said they were getting married. She would have to love someone she lived with, wouldn't she?"

"Jake, I thought she and I might have something. Your mom is different from any woman I've ever known. I have an idea she might feel something for me. But she would never have interfered with my engagement to Shari. Now that's off."

"I think you might be just dreaming. Lots of men get the hots for my mom, but they're not willing to step up and make a lifelong commitment, which is what she expects and deserves."

Clint grabbed Jake's shoulders. "I totally agree with you. I do want to spend the rest of my life with your mom."

"But how could she love you that much when she's never mentioned you?"

"Jake, you know how your mom keeps her private feelings close. She may give you her opinion on everything from the economy to what you're wearing to church, but if you ask her about romance, she will clam up. You know that about her; you've got to," said Clint.

Jake raised his eyebrows, smirked and nodded. "I guess you're right. But you also know that she's stubborn, and when she has her mind made up about something, it _will_ happen. And she's got her mind made up about Terry."

"Doesn't matter. I love your mom and I think she just might love me. We spent hours and hours together in the past several weeks. Now where is she?"

"Hang it up, Clint. She's sick of stretching a dollar and not being able to help other people much. She wants to be a world-class philanthropist. She's gone down to the courthouse with Terry and they're probably already married."

"Why didn't you tell me? We've been wasting time! I have to change her mind!" He ran back to his car and sped off.

"That's what they all say," said Jake, closing the front door.


	14. Chapter 14

Reba – People In Glass Houses 14

Reba – People In Glass Houses 14

Barbara Jean had promised to meet Reba in the lobby of the courthouse, but she and Terry went on up to the justice of the peace after waiting for twenty minutes. Reba had a showing in an hour across town and had never been late to one before. Besides, this was just a formality. She would live in her house. She had asked Terry to give her that. They would spend three evenings a week together planning. She had no desire right now to give up her job until she practiced the philanthropy thing. He agreed reluctantly because it was her only concession.

Terry's witness was his secretary, a wiry little man who apparently had been with him since he got out of grad school. He was on time because he had to leave for soccer – three of his six kids played. He was pacing outside the office of the justice of the peace.

"Let's just go ahead," said Reba. "There's no telling what Barbara Jean's up to. She won't answer her cell phone. We've all got things to do."

"All right with me," said Terry.

His secretary was visibly relieved. They walked into the office.

Reba was wearing nothing special, just what she normally wore to a showing: black dress pants, a two-inch heel, a fitted cotton jade blouse, and a light unconstructed jacket.. Terry was in khakis and a polo shirt.

Just as the woman behind the counter was about to ask them if she could help them, Barbara Jean burst in.

"Why didn't ya'll wait?" she said.

"We did," said Reba, glaring at her. "For thirty minutes."

"Well," started Barbara Jean, "I was just thinking that…I know you two have made up your mind to get married, and I was the one that got you together…"

Terry's secretary glared at Barbara Jean. "Well, let's get on with it! I'm supposed to be on the soccer field in twenty minutes!"

"…oooooo…I'm just n-n-n-not sure you two really belong together...," said Barbara Jean with trepidation.

"Oh hell, I didn't think it was a good idea either," said the secretary.

"As if you all have any say in the matter," said Reba, and grabbed Terry's arm. "Come on; let's get this over with."

Terry wrenched his arm away from Reba. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'Forget them and let's do this.'"

Terry shook his head, staring at Reba as seriously as a statue. "No, you said, 'Let's get this over with.' I don't want to marry you if you want to just get it over with as soon as possible."

Reba's eyes began to fill with tears as she saw how she was hurting Terry. "I'm sorry, Terry; that was heartless of me. You love me and I want to honor you. Now," she said, taking a deep breath and dabbing at her eyes. "I am committed to this relationship." She smiled. It was a little forced, but no one could tell except Barbara Jean, who began to tear up realizing that Reba meant to go through with it even though she didn't love Terry.

They both turned toward the justice, who had appeared a few moments ago and was patiently waiting her turn.

"Do you want the civil or religious?" said the justice.

Reba said, "Religious" at the same time Terry said, "Civil." Then Terry said "religious" and Reba said "civil."

The justice rolled her eyes and said, "Okay; I'll mix it up. Dearly beloved…"

"Stop!" yelled a familiar voice, and around the corner ran Gary Clinton at top speed. He tripped against an end table and sprawled out on the tile floor face down in between Terry and Reba.

Terry knelt down next to him. "You okay?"

Clint turned his face toward Terry and held out his hand. "Gary Clinton."

Terry shook his hand. "Terry (whatever terry's last name is. Sorry – I don't have the DVDs). Can we help you with something?"

Clint got himself up to address Terry. He still hadn't said a peep to Reba, too afraid to look at her reaction yet.

Reba was speechless. Why had he come? Why did he have to show up now? Did something go wrong with the signing? Van was supposed to take care of that and get the commission. Had he screwed it up? That rat!

Omigosh, Clint hadn't even looked at her or turned around and here she was getting those visions again. Just being in the room with him made her feel radiant all over. She could feel herself glowing. Surely no one noticed. She felt like she was back in high school and the boy she liked was sitting in the desk next to her. Sheesh! And her tongue was tied! She couldn't say even what are you doing or why are you here? She was glued to the floor with her mouth open and her eyes dilated.

Terry was the one Clint needed to speak with now. He'd find out Reba's motives in a minute.

"Terry, I understand you want to marry Reba. I have to ask you one question. Do you love her, cherish her, and honor her? "

The justice said, "Hey, that's my line!" Clint held up his hand. The justice shrugged and took a step back.

Terry turned his head to the side but still kept his eyes on Clint. "Who wants to know?"

"Gary Clinton, elementary school principal, and a former client of Reba's."

Reba frowned and found one word, at least. "Former?"

Clint kept his eyes on Terry but said to Reba, "Shari's buying the house alone."

"You're not-" began Reba, to his back.

He turned around briefly to answer her and she almost fainted at those dancing eyes and that wide, winning smile. "No, I'm not." He whirled back around to Terry.

Terry put his hands on his hips and stepped up to Clint. "Am I to understand that you love Reba, too?"

Clint turned to Reba, who had begun to tremble and flush. Yes. Yes, I do," he said with conviction and a broad smile.

"Then you're going to have to fight me," said Terry.

Barbara Jean let out a giant laugh and stifled it with her hand.

Terry began to hop like a boxer around Clint with his fists up, punching him lightly every so often and feignting and dodging nothing.

"I'm not fighting you, Mr. ," said Clint. "I think Reba needs to make the decision."

"That's not the male way, "said Terry. "Bulls always fight each other for the mare."

An amused smile appeared on Reba's lips. This was Terry's way of handling embarrassing situations – humor always broke the tension and got everyone feeling better. Terry was a genius. No wonder he was a multi-billionaire.

She walked over to Terry and patted him on the back. "It's okay, Mr. Stallion, I think I can make my own decisions."

Terry relaxed and sighed. "So I guess you choose the poor educator guy over me, huh?"

Reba put her arms around Terry. "It's not because you're short. A little bird told me there was ample compensation elsewhere."

Terry pointed at Barbara Jean. "Oh, you."

Barbara Jean winked at him. Terry looked back at Reba. "Could I just request one kiss?"

Reba rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, alright. Here."

And she threw him down in a tango pose and gave him a long, hard one on the lips. Then she set him back upright and stepped away.

Terry blinked and stood briefly, then swayed and wavered before crashing onto the tile floor.

The justice said, "Is there going to be a wedding today?" Reba turned to her, crinkled her nose and shook her head. The justice replied. "Didn't think so," and left.

Barbara Jean squealed, knelt down, and picked up Terry's head. His eyes were rolling around. "How many fingers, Terry?" asked Barbara Jean.

"Um, seventeen?" said Terry.

Barbara Jean was about to dial 911 when one of the workers in the office said, "I'm an EMT in my spare time; let me take a look."

Once everyone in the office was looking at Terry, Clint took Reba's hands gently and led her out into the hall.

"I can't believe you love him, even if he is filthy rich and a really great guy," said Clint,leaning against the wall.

"Well, I really don't," said Reba, still flushing madly. "I hope he doesn't take it too hard."

Reba peeked around the door and looked at Barbara Jean, who was kissing on Terry and fussing over him. The EMT had to push her out of the way. Terry was loving it, too.

"I think Barbara Jean will help him get over it," said Clint,as Reba turned around to face him again.

"You know," said Reba, "They are made for each other. I don't know why I didn't see that at the beginning."

"But you were not made to be worshipped from afar like some Grecian goddess. You need someone you love passionately who will love you right back. You need a mental, emotional, and spiritual challenge. And I think you need a physical challenge as well."

Reba's legs went to jelly, but she steeled herself. She didn't want to miss any of this –it was too good. Again, she found herself mute. It was okay, because Clint wasn't done quite yet. He was still leaning with his back against the wall and his head turned toward her. Reba was leaning her side against the wall, a couple of feet away from Clint. She could smell him from here. He was still damp from running from his parking place two blocks away and then up four flights of stairs. But he didn't smell bad. He just smelled…Clint-y. She took a deep breath of him and enjoyed it more than the air in a bakery.

Clint tried to look serious but his hope got the better of him and he had to smile a little bit. "Is there someone else besides Terry that might be up to your challenge? Someone who may have no money, but fell in love the first time he saw you and who has not been able to get you out of his head from day one?"

Reba finally found her voice again and stepped close to Clint. "How about let's find out?" she said.

Then she turned to face him and pressed her body against his. She breathed in his scent once more and couldn't help but let out a little "MMMmm…" Then she lifted her face slowly and put her lips an inch away from his. "Are you ready to find out?"

Clint smiled, "Oh, I already know." And he let her move her mouth on top of his.

Oh, sweet baby cinnamon rolls, thought Reba, nothing has ever tasted this sweet or lit me up like a Vegas marquee. Am I still on the planet?

Clint was 'way past the planet and moving toward another galaxy. He had to strain his mind to remember they were in a public hall so he wouldn't touch her where he wanted to touch her or make the sounds he wanted to make. He was already planning moves he had thought about at night for weeks.

Suddenly, an elevator door opened and a gurney clattered onto the hall tile floor. Clint and Reba broke the kiss and simply held each other, looking into each others' eyes, stunned at the power of the passion between them.

"You'd better keep holding me,' cause I could fall down right now," she said, her eyes half open.

"I've got you now," said Clint. "Don't even think for a minute that I'll let you go."

The EMTs rolled Terry out on a gurney with Barbara Jean right behind. "Can I ride in the ambulance?"

"Are you his wife?" asked one.

"No," she said.

"Then, no." They put Terry in the elevator and wouldn't let Barbara Jean on. "You can sit and wait in the emergency room like all the other girlfriends."

The elevator door closed. Barbara Jean stood there, clasping her hands to her chest as if she had just won Miss America. "His girlfriend!" she cried. "They called me his girlfriend!" And she opened the door to the stairs to go to the hospital.

Terry's secretary was the next out the door. "This was a total waste of time," he said, checking his watch.

"Sorry," said Reba.

"Not as sorry as I am," he replied and also went down the stairs.

"So," said Clint, snuggling Reba. "How about dinner?"

Suddenly, Reba screamed. "My clients!" She looked at her watch. "I have to show a house in fifteen minutes!"

"School's out for the day for me," said Clint. "Mind if I tag along?"

Reba was already on the move, dragging Clint by the hand. "Come on, old man; get a move on."

"Old man? Oh, don't you start that. You cannot take me on the old thing. We'll take my car," he said.

"Your car? It's fifteen years old. It will make it look like I never sell any houses," said Reba.

They got in the elevator, which had finally come back up.

"And your van makes you look like you sell houses every day?"

"Hey, said Reba as the doors closed, "With the price of gas, it looks like I sell mansions when I drive a gas guzzlers like my van."

But once the doors closed, it was almost as if they were magnetized to each other. Clint was all over Reba with his hands. He couldn't stop himself. She couldn't either. But it was only six floors on a speedy elevator.

So when the elevator hit the ground floor and they broke apart there waas not a lot of straightening of clothes to do before the door opened. And it was a good thing too, because about ten people stood ready to walk in. And every single one of them could tell beyond a shadow of a doubt what Clint and Reba had been doing in the elevator. They all smiled as Reba and Clint got off.

"He's a cutie!" said one woman to Reba. "I don't blame you!"

"Lucky bastard," said one thirty-something guy in a suit to Clint.

Once in the car, Reba said, "I think we need some ground rules."

"OK," said Clint. "When I can get you on the ground, I will make passionate love to you."

Reba grinned, her eyes still on the road. "We need to date. I mean, seriously, we've known each other what, six weeks? I don't know where you were born or what your first pet's name was."

Clint closed his eyes. "Damn. And all this time you came across as a loose woman."

Reba rolled her eyes. "Right. Was it the tailored clothes or the van that gave it away?"

"So what do I need to do in order to…um…take it to the next level?"

"Oh, so that's what the kids are calling it these days?"

Clint sighed. "Reba, it's okay.I love you. I would rather not wait, of course; that's just implied. And trust me,I will still continue to ask. But I won't go any farther than you want."

"That's what I'm afraid of,"said Reba. "I almost lost it in the elevator."

Clint frowned. "Lost it? You were married for twenty years!"

"Control, Clint; I almost lost control. Virginity has nothing to do with it."

"But lovemaking is best when it's out of control."

"But in a setting with parameters. I'd like to have a wild fling,too. Never had one. Ever. But I have Jake at home, a job, a spotless medical history, and a not-so-great track record with emotional relationships."

"But I think the control part is the problem. You know me and you love me. What other parameters do you need?"

"I'm a divorced woman, Clint. I need to know that you can stand up to my worst parts. Brock couldn't take it. I can get really mean."

"Reba," said Clint. "Please. I am an elementary school principal. I just expelled a fourth grader for dealing and carrying concealed. You don't know mean."

"But that was a kid. How hard could it be? You pick him up and throw him out the window."

"When I say 'mean,' I'm talking about his 350 pound mother with the phrase, 'I Kill You" carved –not tattooed, carved- into her left bicep."

Reba gulped. "Elementary school sure is different than when Jake left."

"You can't scare me, Reba. Unless you break your leg or something."

Reba had to look at him briefly and smile.

_**OK, I'm going past The Wedding Planner plot. Are ya'll still interested? I think I have one or two more chapters in me. I like a neat, tidy ending.**_


	15. Chapter 15

Reba – People In Glass Houses 15

Reba – People In Glass Houses 15

This is short. I seem to be getting onto a whole different story. Hopefully I can wrap it up with the next chapter, but I'm not sure…

Clint came over to Reba's house that very Saturday to watch a ball game. He and Jake bonded over the Atlanta Braves and lamented the Braves' perennial tendency to either dig themselves a hole and by some miracle pull it out, or be sitting pretty by several runs and then turn around and give the game away.

After the game, Jake went over to a friend's house.

"Thanks for being so friendly to Jake," said Reba.

"What are you talking about? He's a great kid. I'd like him even if he weren't your son."

Clint patted the sofa. Reba shook her head and stayed where she was. "Too much temptation. Empty house."

"Still afraid you'll run me off with your temper?"

"Yes," said Reba.

"Okay, then; let me have it," said Clint.

"I can't just make up something to be mad about. You have to do something that makes me mad. And if I know you're doing it just to get me in bed, it won't work. It has to be real. And we haven't been together enough for those things to come out yet."

Clint ran his fingers through his hair.

"Besides, if all you want is my body, then if you get that, you'll get bored by it eventually. It's got to be more," said Reba.

"It is more," said Clint.

"You think that now. But you're thinking with your pants."

"I resent that," said Clint.

"It's not your fault. It's biology. Propagation of the species and all that. Primitive stuff."

"Oh, you're so romantic, Reba."

"Look,Clint, when I make love with someone, I am giving part of myself away. It's a spiritual thing. If I share my deepest, inner self with someone whom I don't intend to love deeply, it hurts them, it hurts me, and I get confused. It even affects my relationship with my maker. And I can't let anything mess with that. After Brock and I divorced, I was so mad at God that I just quit talking to him. And I was a sad, angry, mean person for a long time. Everyone around me suffered."

Clint thought she was getting far off the subject at hand, but he could tell this meant a lot to her, so he needed to know it.

She continued. "I don't want to go there again. Ever. I know I make mistakes and that's okay. But I don't want to go down that particular road again just for one night of pleasure. Twenty years ago it wouldn't have affected me the same way."

He took her hands. They were so soft, despite the hard work she did in this very house. Her eyes were glistening. She really felt passionately about this. So this is how she kept herself under such control. He wanted her so badly. He knew she wanted him as well. She was afraid to be hurt again. Well, and the thing with God, but he didn't really get that part. Maybe she could explain it to him later, when he wasn't so distracted by her hair and skin and shape.

"Reba," he said, "I understand about you not wanting to be hurt. And now I realize that only spending time with each other under different circumstances is going to win you over. So let's plan some things to do that will challenge your patience."

"You mean you are going to deliberately speed up the 'getting-to-know-you process just so you can get physical sooner?" asked Reba.

"Yep, that's it," admitted Clint.

Reba thought for a second. "Okay. No harm in trying. It's not the way things have always been done, but I'm nothing if not a maverick. What did you have in mind?"

"Let's see – what usually challenges relationships? Money problems, religious differences, building or remodeling homes, moving…"

Reba added, "Taking a bunch of kids on a road trip, illness, going into business together, having children, death of a loved one, losing a job, dieting, alcoholism.., any addiction, really…"

"A lot of these things aren't things you can recreate," said Clint. "But we could take a bunch of Jake's friends on a camping trip."

Reba made a face. "Ick. I haven't been camping in years. But Jake loved it when he was little."

"Perfect," said Clint. "Set it up."

"Why should I set it up? You're the one that wants to hurry this thing along," said Reba.

Clint smiled. "Oh, good. Conflict already. This is gonna be great! I'm going home to plan. You pick the weekend, pack yourself and Jake, invite four of his friends, and I'll do everything else."

"You'll get the tents?"

"Yep."

"Sleeping bags?"

"Yep."

"Tarp?"

"Yes, Reba."

"Food? Lighter? Bug spray?"

"I was an Eagle Scout, Reba. Trust me," said Clint and then he pecked her on the cheek and left.

Reba watched him get in his car. "I'd really, really like to do that."


	16. Chapter 16

**Reba – People In Glass Houses 16**

True to his word, Clint had not forgotten anything for the camping trip. He even brought his huge Suburban with the 40-gallon tank and filled it up to the tune of about 150 dollars. Jake and his friends were in high spirits all the way up I-45 to Huntsville State Park an hour north of Houston, playing video games, and cards. Reba beat them at hearts but had to turn around and quit because riding backwards made her carsick.

When they got to the primitive campsite, it was already mid-afternoon, so they made camp. Clint was very patient with the boys, most of whom had never been tent camping before. He had also brought fishing gear and asked Reba if she wanted to teach fishing or camp cooking. Reba chose fishing. While Reba was off teaching the guys that didn't know how to fish, Clint got out the food for dinner, built a fire, and got it going.

One of the boys actually caught a fairly good-size bream,so they brought it back and Clint scaled and filleted it right there. He put it in a skillet and showed the boy who caught it how to cook it. Then he gave each boy a job and in thirty minutes, supper was ready. It was still light after they finished and cleaned up, so Reba suggested they all walk around the lake before it got dark.

While Reba was spraying on bug repellant, she marveled at how well things were going. "I have never been on a camping trip where something major didn't go wrong in the first thirty minutes.. It's like you're a charm or something."

"No,I'm not charmed; I'm prepared. Boy Scout motto!"

Reba gathered the guys around and set down some ground rules for the rest of the night and the next day. "Go nowhere alone except to the bathroom, and then if it's at night, you have to take someone with you. I'd rather you wake me up than to lose your way and get lost. Clean up after yourself. Be courteous of other campers. Take nothing but pictures and leave nothing but footprints. No littering. Do not leave food out. Raccoons may look cute but they can bite and might have rabies…"she went on and on.

Finally, Clint stopped her. "Okay, Reba, I think their heads are full. Let's assume they have some walking around sense."

Reba looked at him as if he'd just grown another head. "Are you insane? They're sixteen-year-old boys! Research has shown that they have no common sense! Don't you ever read Scientific American?"

Clint patted her on the back. "They're fine. Hey, it's getting dark. How about marshmallows and ghost stories?"

Jake looked insulted. "Ghost stories? What are we, seven?"

Clint shrugged. "Fine. I'll show you guys how to build an awesome campfire and then how to put it out."

Later, Reba had almost gotten her third marshmallow perfectly browned when Clint glanced at her and gave her an imperceptible wink. He was up to something, but she didn't let on she knew.

_**OK,I am getting tired of this story. I'm ready to start my next one. I personally hate camping. Why did I start this thread? Ick. I'm stuck. First person that messages me what Clint does to scare the guys gets it added to the story. Then maybe that will give me a jump start to finish. Something needs to go wrong-not terribly wrong, but wrong – so there can be a Clint/Reba fight. Help me out, ya'll.**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Reba: People in Glass Houses 17**

Clint smiled broadly. "Naw, I knew better than to mess with those stupid "Hook Man" stories. Reba has told me how she and Jake love to watch horror movies on Saturday nights and sometimes you guys come over and watch with them. Halloween, Friday the Thirteenth, Blair Witch…"

Reba said, "No, that one just made me seasick with the motion of the camera."

One of the guys said, "My favorite is 'The Hills Have Eyes."

Another one said, "'Hellboy 2,' definitely."

Still another yelled out, "'The Ruins' was the creepiest thing I have ever seen."

Jake said, "That was totally lame."

Reba said,"Shhh! We're not the only ones here. Remember my rules? Be courteous to other campers."

"Um, Reba?' said Clint. "We are the only ones camping here.Everyone else left at dusk."

"Oh," said Reba. "Well pipe down because it gives ME a headache."

Clint looked around at Jake and his friends. "You know the reason we came here specifically, don't you, guys?"

All of them, including Jake, shrugged. Clint continued. "Don't you remember, back in 1999? The incident that happened here at Huntsville State Park? It made the national news. Letterman even made it part of his nightly standup."

Reba shook her head. "They don't remember, Clint. They were seven years old. I didn't tell Jake or he wouldn't have slept for six months."

"What incident?" said one of the guys. "I never heard about it."

"Aw," said Jake, "They're just trying to scare us."

"Well, yeah," said Reba. "That's the point. Something really happened here and we thought since we all love being scared that it might make the trip a little more, you know, fun."

"I think they're about to make something up," said one of the guys.

Clint gave the guy a crooked smile. "I thought you might say that, so I got online and downloaded the article from the Houston Chronicle's archives. The article just tells the basic facts of the story."

The guy rolled his eyes and handed it to Jake. "You read it, man. I hate reading aloud."

"May 14,1999 – " Jake stopped. "Oh, yeah, I see. That's ten years ago tonight, guys. Nice touch, Clint." He read again. "State Troopers were called to Huntsville State Park at 7AM to investigate deaths in the primitive campground area. When the troopers arrived, they found two bodies under a shredded tent, with multiple stab wounds in what was left of their torsos, heads thrown over in the grass, arms and legs put in 'X' signs on the ground around the campfire. Blood soaked the ground so it was mud and turned the dark green tents black. There were four other campsites in the primitive campsite area including 12 people in all, but not one of the campers had heard a noise, despite being only a few feet away from the murder.

Jake continued reading. "Bernie Tubbs, 54, of Kinawa, Tx, said he got up before dawn to fish and was coming in after the sun came up when he saw the awful scene.

"'I ain't never seen nothin' so gruesome in my whole enire life,' said Mr. Tubbs. 'And they was just babies – maybe not even in their twenties, a boy and a girl. Probably out here to get away from their families and not get caught.'

"Mrs. Tubbs said, 'Thas' what those children get for doin' the nasty outside-a marriage.'

"'Pipe down, Lois,' said Mr. Tubbs. 'This ain't the time for yer preachin'. How'd you like yor son to be one of 'em?'

"Then Mr. Tubbs began to cry. 'We should have heard somethin'. We was only twenty feet away. Why didn't we hear something so we coulda stopped this from hap'nin'?'

By this time the boys were looking a bit unnerved. Jake kept reading "Sergeant Fred Scutts investigated briefly and called the FBI. All the campers were interviewed. The investigation continues. Huntsville State Park will be closed until further notice."

Jake handed the news article back to Clint. "So I suppose," he said, "That our tent is pitched exactly upon the place where the lovers were hacked to pieces?"

Clint stood up briefly and pretended to look around. "Actually, it's Reba's tent."

Reba narrowed her eyes. "Perfect."

One of the guys looked at his watch. "It's only nine o'clock. I'm not sleepy and I'm not scared, either. You've got to do better than that."

Reba said, "It doesn't bother you that the killer was never found?"

"Nah,"said Jake. "Probably was one of those campers and they just couldn't prove anything."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "They opened the park back up six months later, and two teenagers disappeared."

One of the guys said, "Teenagers run away all the time. He probably just didn't want to take out the trash." He and the other guys gave knucks all around.

"Yep, but…um…" began Reba.

"Let me guess." said Jake. "He disappeared from this very campsite."

Reba nodded.

"Got any news articles to back that one up?" asked one guy.

Reba held her hands up. "What am I, Wikipedia? Look it up yourself."

"Convenient that we are miles from Internet service," said one.

Reba batted her eyes. "And the closest trooper station is ten miles away."

"So they closed it again,"said Clint, "For a whole year. Then they moved the primitive camping site closer to the Sam Houston Forest so it would be closer to a ranger, but people kept bugging them to move it back because the legend was growing and people wanted to see the actual site. They trampled bushes and stuff to come look at it. So they moved it back here and opened it up again in 2000. In May of that year, two kids drowned in the lake with their parents right by them and with life preservers on."

"Now you're lying," accused one boy.

"And the next year, two girls were bitten by water moccasins and died," said Reba, getting into it.

"Were these victims camping at this very site?"

"No,"said Clint. "It seemed the curse had widened to include the whole park."

"Why haven't we heard any of this at school or in the paper or online?" asked Jake.

"The state doesn't want to perpetuate the curse. They've discussed closing the park altogether, but there is a large donor to the State Parks System that says he would pull all his support out if they close the park because his family used to own the land and he wants it to stay open."

"Maybe he's the murderer," said Jake.

"But most of these deaths aren't murders. Just the first two or four," said one boy.

They began to talk about it and Clint winked again at Reba. There was more discussion as they played cards by the waning fire. Around eleven, Clint doused the fire with water and threw dirt on it.

"Bedtime," he said. "We'll hike tomorrow, so get some rest."

The boys retired to their tents two by two. Reba crawled into her tent. She was just shimmying out of her bra when she heard a "Psst" at the zipper of her tent. She stuck her head out. It was Clint.

"No," she said, and put her head back in her tent.

"Rats," said Clint and went to his tent.

Reba's dreams were bad that night after all that story-telling, even though it was fake. Usually things like that didn't phase her. She kept trying in her dreams to tell the kids who were murdered to leave the campsite before nightfall, but they wouldn't listen. In her dream, she kept saying, "He's coming, he's coming, the man is coming to hack you to pieces, get out!" She woke herself up a couple of times saying that, but went back into the dream.

The last time she had the dream, she really did hear a stabbing noise as she dragged herself out of the sleeping bag and unzipped her tent, half asleep, not caring that she,too could be hacked to death. She just wanted to stop him from killing those kids. Her heart beat so fast as she stumbled barefoot across the campsite to Jake's tent.

"Jake!" she yelled, realizing her baby was in danger. "Jake, get up! He's here! Get out!" she yelled frantically. She couldn't see much in the dark and stepped in the campfire, now out, but still full of sticks. "Ow! Jake!" she said, twisted her ankle, and fell into the cold ashes.

"Jake! Get out!" she continued to call as she pulled herself with her arms through the ashes toward Jake's tent. By this time, Jake had come out along with all his buddies to see why she was yelling.

"Mom! What is the matter?" said Jake.

In the dark, Reba still could see nothing but shapes. "The man! The murderer – he's here! I heard him hacking on somebody. Somebody here is dead!" Reba was in tears, shaking, her voice breaking. "Call 911! Now!"

She heard Jake address all his friends. "All the guys are here, Mom. We're fine."

Reba stopped. "Then where's Clint?"

Reba sat on the log next to the campfire and propped up her ankle. All she had on was a t-shirt and panties, but at this point, she didn't care, she just wanted to find Clint. The boys were on a search for Clint with their flashlights.

As Reba woke up more and her ankle began to swell, she realized that she had been having bad dreams. She was just beginning to think the absent Clint might have something to do with the scare when one of the boys yelled. She yelled at them to come tell her. All five boys ran up, their faces white and scared.

"Mrs.Hart," said one of them, "We found a trail of blood leading from Clint's tent away toward the lake."

A sick feeling swept over Reba. She forced herself to get up. It was getting light, so she could see a bit. Jake went in her tent and got her jeans and shoes, but she couldn't put on either without hurting her foot. "Just forget the clothes."

Jake helped her hobble toward the lake. There they saw one of Clint's shoes floating in the water. Then over in some cattails, Jake spotted what looked like jeans material. They crept closer.

It was a leg. Reba screamed. She cried, she shook, and then she hobbled over behind a tree and threw up.

"Jake…" she said weakly. "Call 911, for real."

_**Thanks to "gracelove" for the inspiration for this part of the story. I was stuck and she pulled me out!!**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Reba – People in Glass Houses 18**

As Jake fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, someone yelled, "Wait!" There was lots of movement in the underbrush near the lake and suddenly Clint came running out. He yelled, "No, Jake, we'll get arrested for a false alarm!"

Reba's white face turned pink and then red. Clint was actually smiling.

"Good, huh? Bet that's the best scare you've had in a long time," he said, running up to Reba and putting his hands on his hips proudly.

Reba stood slowly, but though her face was red, she showed no emotion. If she had shown how her emotions were roiling inside, he would have run away, far away so she would never have the chance to clock him.

He went over immediately, unconscious. She stalked as well as she could with a sprained ankle back to the campsite. Jake and his buddies kneeled down and checked his vitals.

"He'll be around in a minute," said Jake. "But we'll take them both to the urgent care doctors for xrays. Go pack up, dudes. This party is so over."

By the time Jake and Clint had made it back to camp, Reba had packed all her things and was sitting in the back seat of the car.

"Dude," said Jake to Clint when he saw her. "You are so screwed."

"Apparently." said Clint. "I had no idea you guys would get so into it. I mean, I thought I was good, but not that good."

"Here's a tip: don't even say you're sorry right now. Say nothing to her until she talks to you first."

"I have to apologize first, Jake."

"Not with my mom. She has to have the first word and the last. It gives her a sense of control."

"Like she needs more of that. But okay. You know her better. Thanks."

Jake drove and took the rest of the guys home before heading to the doc-in-the-box. The reception room was packed with sick kids, people with taped limbs, and some folks lying on the floor.

Reba still had said nothing. Jake asked how she was doing and she just glared at him. He asked if she wanted something to drink and she glared again. Jake went to a drink machine to get a Coke. Reba never let him have Coke in the morning. He figured now was his chance.

Jake went back over to Clint.

"Think she'll give me another chance?" asked Clint.

"I don't know, man," said Jake. "I haven't seen her this mad since the divorce."

"Sh…oot."

Reba hobbled into her front door on crutches with Jake and Clint close behind. She still had said nothing to either one of them.

"Jake," she said, "Would you go set some cereal and milk out on the table for me before I pass out?"

"Sure, Mom," said Jake and ran to the kitchen.

That left Clint and Reba alone in the den.

"Reba-" Clint began. Reba held up her hand.

"Don't even start," she said. "Leave my house now."

"That's not fair. I can't even explain myself?"

"What you did shows your character. That's why we went camping.Y ou wanted to step it up, right? Well, we both learned things about each other. I learned that you are basically evil. You learned not to come within ten feet of me. End of story. Goodbye."

"But-" he began.

"Out, or I'll give you another concussion."

He realized she meant it and left.

He tried to call during the next five days but she knew his caller ID and didn't pick up. She was busy at work anyway and that helped to push the weekend out of her mind. But it never completely left.

A couple of times, Jake answered.

"Um, Clint, dude, I think you're done with my mom. She shows no sign of not being mad," said Jake the second time.

"But if we were done, she'd have moved on. If she's still mad there's some hope," said Clint.

"I don't know how you figure that, but I guess you know more about women than I do."

"I'd like to think that, but they're not ever predictable. You think you have a handle on them and they change again."

"I've got to go. She's coming down the stairs."

Reba heard just the tail end of Jake's side of the conversation. She knew it was Clint. She stopped coming down the stairs for a second, decided whether to even acknowledge she knew. She decided to ignore it.

"I need a ride to work, Mom," said Jake. "Corey can bring me home."

"I'm so proud of you for getting a summer job," said Reba, ruffling his hair.

"Hey, it's purely for mercenary reasons. I want the new Mario game for Wii."

After she took Jake, she had two hours before a showing and she had finished all her paperwork and e-mails for the day. There was always more she could do, but she had to set herself limits or she'd become a workaholic. She had made sure she stayed busy this week so she didn't sink into her anger and complete disappointment over what Clint had done. Now, she knew she needed to deal with it or it would come out with her kids or grandkids, and she didn't want that to happen.

So she allowed herself to go back to techniques from her therapy sessions before the divorce. She visualized Clint sitting on the sofa with her. She turned toward him and let him have it, ranting, crying, getting up and pacing, punching pillows, crying some more, and finally saying her peace.

To the sofa cushions, she practiced her line to deliver to Clint when she was ready. "Your trick made me see that there is a mean streak in you that's bigger than mine. That scares me. If two people have mean streaks, it doesn't make for a peaceful life. And I scared myself by striking out physically. The possibility that I could be the abuser in a relationship also scares me. This is not going to work. We can't be friends, because I could still be physically attracted to you. Which is yet another thing that scares me. How could I fall for someone that uses me like that?"

Hmm, she thought. Too long of a speech. He might even nod off. Well, she'd just practice over and over until she got it quick and to the point.

Okay, so she had her basic "Tell him off" speech done. Now came the hard part - actually getting over the physical and emotional attachment to him. It shocked her how quickly her interest had gone from attraction to almost obsession. But fresh love was usually that way, thought Reba. It's so flattering to have someone else think you're terrific. She had fallen for him just as he had fallen for her. They both hadn't seriously dated in so long. Perhaps that was it - desperation. But she thought he was a nice guy. He was a nice guy, in general. But not in specifics. She would eventually have him over and give him the speech when it was ready.

Reba cried a little more, mourning for the lost opportunity for a new start with a nice guy, and also, she admitted to herself, for some really great sex. Well, any sex, actually. Then she got herself up off the couch, dressed, and went to her next showing.


	19. Chapter 19

**Reba –People In Glass Houses – 19**

Reba parked in the driveway of the house she was about to show. It was the house across from Clint's school. How many times had she shown this house? Ten? And how many times had she begged the owners to clean up before they left her to show it? Fifteen? She arrived an entire hour early. It was exactly as it had been the previous ten times she'd shown the house: dirty dishes in the sink, laundry on the den sofa, and toys strewn all over the floors. It would take her the whole hour because her ankle still had to be babied, even though she was off the crutches.

She cleaned up the kitchen and then went in the den and folded the clothes. After folding them she stacked them to take them…where? The people would look in every closet. Where did people never look? Under the beds. So she put the clean laundry there with all the dust and Christmas wrapping paper.

Then she grabbed a hamper from the laundry room and began a sweep through the house to get all the toys from the floor. After only five minutes, there was a knock on the door. She looked at her watch. The viewers were thirty minutes early! She wasn't ready! Panic!

She forced herself to relax and kicked several toys underneath upholstered furniture. God only knew what the upstairs looked like. But houses had been sold under worse conditions, just not for the asking price.

Inhale, exhale, said Reba to herself and she opened the door.

It was Clint.

She shut the door. He waited briefly and knocked again.

Reba cursed her stomach for flip-flopping at the sight of him. He must have seen her car from his office window. But what principal has the time to leave school in the middle of the day on a whim? She opened the door again.

"Shouldn't you be spanking kids or firing bad teachers or something?" said Reba with a scowl.

"I don't spank. The board doesn't allow that. I just call the parent and tell on the kid," said Clint. "And I am blessed with enthusiastic teachers."

"Well, you may not be busy but I am. I have to show this house in (She fudged to get him out of her hair) five minutes and these cretins left their house like a pig sty."

"Well, let me help you, then."

"Don't need it. Goodbye." She started to close the door.

"Reba, I have to see you."

Sweet swirling onion rings, he looks and smells good, thought Reba. Wait, you idiot, she said to herself. He played you!

"I cannot get ready for business with you here," she said.

"Why not?" said Clint.

"You drive me up a wall," she said.

He looked at her. She looked at him, despite herself, because if she looked down then he would be winning. She kept the scowl but she wanted to drool. That voice. That dry sense of humor. That honesty. That cute butt…

"Augh!" yelled Reba before she knew it.

Clint covered a smile. All was not lost. If he didn't have a chance she wouldn't care. She probably wouldn't mind him helping her because there would be no emotions there. But she refused because he "drove her up a wall." He liked the sound of that. It reminded him of that kiss at the courthouse when she had _him_ pinned to the wall and almost drove_ him_ up it.

"I will leave if you promise to answer your phone tonight at whatever time you wish so that I can at least hear your voice. You can say whatever you want to say."

Reba closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and agreed. He turned around and walked back across the street toward his school. Right before he got to the door, he turned around. She was still watching him. He waved and went in.

Dang, thought Reba, I've been standing here staring at him like a teenager. Did I keep my scowl on? Oh,please let me have kept scowling!

She froze her face just like it was and ran inside to look in a mirror. Oh, yeah; her face positively said "Drop dead." Whew.

The couple arrived to view the house just after she'd placed the last Lego in the bin. They weren't really interested in the house, she could tell. They didn't ask many questions. They didn't say anything, actually. Reba said goodbye and sighed. All that work for squat. Maybe she should paint the interior white and add it to her fee.

When she locked the house, it was five-thirty. Clint's car was still at the school. Long day for them both. But she had promised to talk with him tonight, so she needed to get home and get Jake's supper cooked early.

But then Clint came out of the school and walked across the street toward her. She stood next to her car. He had obviously been to an important meeting because he was wearing a full suit and tie. While he walked, he took off his coat and slung it over his shoulder. For some reason that gave Reba a little zing. She was a little irritated at that, but she brushed it aside. He really was trying to apologize, and she certainly owed him that as a fellow human being.

She tried to look at him without scowling, but without physical interest, more like a friendly gaze. But how do you do that? She thought.

She ended up looking confused, and Clint thought he had made a mistake walking over instead of phoning. But when he saw her car still here, he took it as a sign to apologize and confess, face-to-face, whether she was ready or not.

"Reba," he said. He loved saying that name. "Will you walk with me?"

Oh, Jesus, help me, prayed Reba. I want to keep my head about me! "Sure," she said.

He held out his arm for her to come on the sidewalk. They strolled in silence down the tree-lined street for a few moments.

"I remember the first time I saw this school as its new principal. I was a little intimidated. I had taught here a few years before that. The principal had a reputation for being a slave driver to her teachers. I didn't get that from her, but then I was pretty driven myself back then. But the school itself gained quite an academic reputation in the state. High SAT scores, chess club, junior debate team, junior scholars' bowl, stuff like that. I knew I could teach there. I could handle the kids. But as the principal, could I handle the adults? Would they expect me to be like my predecessor? Would I have to change in order to accommodate this new responsibility? I had the reputation of being a bit softer on discipline and a bit of a goof-ball. I wasn't sure I wanted to let go of that image."

Reba had no idea why he was telling her all this until he got to the last part. If she was going to stay away from him, he was doing a good job of losing her interest.

He continued. "I did have to change. And I think of all the things I would have missed had I not taken that leap of faith and changed a few things about myself. The point is, I'm ready to change again. For you, Reba. I'm ready to peel off that next layer."

He stepped in front of her. "What I did on the camping trip was wrong. I hurt you and could have hurt the boys. But more than your ankle, I betrayed your trust. To be perfectly honest, I used your attachment to me for my own amusement. I am sorry, and I struggle daily for a way to make it up to you and start over."

Reba blinked. He had read her mind. But she couldn't just pretend it didn't happen. "You did hurt me. You knew I had trust issues after the divorce. I told you that and you used it against me, you rat."

"Yes, I am a rat of the worst kind."

"Darn right you are. And it was premeditated! You actually planned to make me think I was in on the joke and then when that leg…"

"Yes, yes, Reba, I am a dirty rotten scoundrel of the worst kind."

"Absolutely! That is what you are. And then you had the gall to be afraid you would be arrested for a false alarm! I should have called it in. Except that would have been wrong because someone's life might have depended on the very EMTs we called."

"Yes, I deserved jail. I deserve prison. I deserve to be fed dog food and sleep with rats," said Clint.

"Okay, now you're just irritating me," said Reba.

"I was trying to make you smile."

Reba looked at her watch. "I'm thirsty and hot. A Slurpee from 7-11 might make me smile."

"My car awaits," he said.

They went into the convenience store. Reba got a blue raspberry and Clint got root beer in a bottle. They got in the car.

"Gag, that stinks," said Reba.

"Root beer? Are you communist or something?"

"Always tasted like cough medicine to me."

"You are un-American," he said.

Reba rolled her eyes. She looked down and her slush was already gone. Clint looked at it, too.

"What the heck are you, a camel?"

"Hey, I had to clean two houses today and with a sore ankle."

"I offered to help," said Clint.

"I wasn't ready for you to help me," said Reba.

He looked at her. She smiled. He smiled.

Yum, thought Reba. No, you dummy, she reprimanded herself. Keep it mental! Not emotional! And definitely not physical!

Clint went back in the store and got her a cold bottle of water –the 1.5 liter size. He brought it back and handed it to her.

She grinned. "Now that's what I am talkin' about!" She drank so much that when she was done, she had to gasp for air.

He laughed. She looked at him and grinned. Then she looked at her watch. "How about a real drink?"

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about," said Clint.


	20. Chapter 20

**Reba – People In Glass Houses 20**

**_I revised this because the tone did not match the rest of the story or the characters. Clint would not quote scripture and I doubt that while kissing Reba he'd think of pomegranates. He's a Southerner. Peaches come to our minds often, not pomegranates. This is the end, people!_**

"You're just having one?" asked Reba over her second glass of chardonnay.

"Someone's got to drive home," said Clint.

"Oh, yeah," said Reba, beginning to feel it. "I'm usually the driver. I'm sorry, I assumed you would…" Good heavens, she thought. I've been so distracted by Clint that I forgot to designate a driver! Stop drinking now, she told herself.

Putting her glass down, she asked him another question. She had to admit, she was drinking more than one glass because she was a little nervous. She was the one who had asked Clint for a drink. So it was her move. That scared her a bit. Her body kept screaming, "Kiss him! Kiss him, you fool!" But her mind kept saying, "What other bad qualities do I not know about yet?"

"I'm flattered," said Clint "That you relaxed with me enough to forget that for a minute. You assumed I would take care of you if you got hammered. That means you trust me again."

Reba jutted out her lower jaw. "Hey, I've never been hammered! Tipsy, maybe. But I never drove that way. And that was a long time ago. I think it was Cheyenne's twenty-first birthday."

Clint smiled sideways. "I wouldn't mind you getting a little tipsy."

Reba was feeling a nice light buzz. The place they'd come to was an upscale bar, all urban chic décor and smooth jazz playing. She looked at Clint and said, "You know, Clint, you look just like that music."

Clint leaned closer and said, "how's that?"

"Smooth and sexy," said Reba. "Wanna dance?"

A few couples inched around the small wooden dance floor. Clint led her out and brought her into an easy box step.

"I have to be honest," said Reba, "I'm not much good at following."

"Here's a tip," said Clint, "If you find yourself leading, just have another glass of wine."

They danced for a few moments. There was a bit of stumbling a couple of times. "Just a sec," said Reba. She went back to the table, downed the rest of her wine, and came back into his arms.

Clint nodded. "Better. Much better." He did a couple of bars of basic box step, and then swept her into a circling step. She held on tight and just let it happen. Then he went back to basic.

Reba looked up at him. "That was better than the Tilt-a-Whirl."

The music changed to a slow groove. Clint brought his movements closer, more subtle, and more intimate. Reba felt herself warming up. Her head felt like it belonged on his chest. Her whole body began to hum as if he had struck one chord and it resonated just with her. Again, her head tried to tell her that this was just basic desire. But her body and her heart were flying. She pressed her face to his shirt and inhaled.

Clint also could barely keep his hands from wandering all over her. He forced them to stay glued to her waist and the small of her back. He knew she could feel how he was completely…interested. Suddenly, he had to be alone with her, even if she wouldn't let him do anything. All these people were getting on his nerves. He just wanted to be with her.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

Back to the car they were quiet. The bustle of the city night rang in their ears. Once in his car, he maneuvered it without a word into to interstate. She swallowed, knowing it was she who had the last word on what came next.

Protection wasn't a concern. She had thought of that and condoms were in her purse. She just still had not completely made the choice. Do I really love this man or do I just want to have sex with him for a while until we both get bored? And is that even an option for someone like me who is all or nothing? She said a silent prayer, God, is he someone I could love the rest of my life? Can you help me out here?

He pulled into his house. "I need to call Jake," said Reba. She pulled out her cell."Hey, Jake? I'll be a little later. Clint, uh-huh… Yes. Did you finish your homework? Tomorrow's trash day. Could you go ahead and…right. Thanks, Honey. Okay…None of your business!" She hung up.

"What was that?" asked Clint as they walked to the door.

She sighed. "Well, I hate to break the so-called mood, but I've had this dilemma before and it sort of helped to talk about it."

"Good news, Reba. I'm a man. Even if your break your mood, you can't break mine, so go right ahead with whatever you need to say." He took her hand and led her to the sofa.

Reba stammered. "Well, you know, I really, really want to…um…you know," she said, blushing.

"You're so cute; you're blushing!"

"I can't help it, Clint. It means a lot to me when I…do it. It's a spiritual thing. Do you understand that?"

"No," said Clint. "No, I don't. But I respect it."

"Okay, here. It's a gift, don't you think?"

"What, sex? You better believe it," said Clint.

"Okay, so let's imagine that my dad gives me a bar of gold that has been in the family for generations."

"A bar of gold…" said Clint. "I'm guessing the bar of gold is…sex?"

Reba blinked. She's serious, thought Clint. Sex is a bar of gold. I gotta remember that.

Reba continued. "This bar of gold is worth more that just money. It represents the first money my great-great grandfather made in America. He asks me to share it with someone special that loves me and wants to be with me always. If I do this, the bar of gold will get more valuable and more enjoyable."

Clint was having difficulty following, since her hair and lips and skin kept distracting him, but he tried to focus. Gold gets more valuable and enjoyable; right.

Reba could tell he was struggling to concentrate. Guys had it rough. Women could separate their thoughts once they got interested; men had to try much harder. But he had to get this or she couldn't even kiss him tonight. "I really like you a lot, so much that I want to share this gold with you. So I give half of it to you and we enjoy it together. We spend it on a trip together. But after the trip, we decide we're bored with each other and part ways. Now all I have is a half piece of gold. It's still worth something, but not nearly enough because we spent half already, the specialness is gone, and we didn't keep it together so it could grow and become more enjoyable."

Clint smiled. "Did you just think that up?"

"Yeah, I did," said Reba.

A tear slid down Reba's cheek and splashed onto his hand. He realized that she was struggling as much as he was. He wiped its track off her cheek with his thumb and let his hand stay holding her face. "I cherish you more than anyone on this planet, Reba. You are loving, giving, funny, intelligent, compassionate, thoughtful, kind, loyal, forgiving, discerning, and absolutely gorgeous. I can't believe that you choose to spend time with me. I'm so thankful you forgave me for my stupidity."

Reba let go of one hand to wipe her nose with her sleeve and sniff a bit. But she said nothing; she just listened.

He continued. "For the past few days since the camping trip, I have thought of nothing but how to get you back. I thought of so many things to share with you but you wouldn't answer the phone. It was horrible not to see you or hear what you had to say. It was lonely and empty and like a prison. I can exist without you, Reba, but I can't really live."

He opened the drawer under the coffee table and pulled out a red velvet box. He opened it to reveal a simple, elegant solitaire set in platinum.

Clint smoothly slid off the sofa and onto the carpet in front of Reba. "I love you, Reba. I want to wake up every morning and see those eyes and hear that laugh and see that smile."

Reba was so overwhelmed that she burst out crying, grabbed him into a hug, and hung on for all she was worth. Clint was a little worried until he heard a muffled, "Yes!" coming from the damp spot on the front of his shirt.

He finally pulled her off his chest enough to find her mouth with his. He thought, her lips are like peaches, like a piece of apricot-colored ribbon. Yes! Exactly! She tasted as sweet and light as a piece of fruit and her lips had the texture of silk.

Reba, on the other hand, likened Clint to a mug of apple cinnamon cider, sweet but spicy, warm, and full-bodied. She could kiss him all night.

And now, she just might.


End file.
